Obsessed
by OshindiJo
Summary: Max and Chloe weren't the only two who survived the storm. Climbing out of the bunker, Mark Jefferson has lost everything and found the meaning of life – his obsession with Max, his prey. After all the times she's been saved, the tables are turned, and Chloe will have to fight to save Max with everything she has before Max is gone for good. Updated bimonthly on Thursdays @ 8pm EST.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys, Ocean here. So, this fanfiction is one of the smaller projects I intend to work on over the course of NaNoWriMo this November. As such I won't be spending a lot of time editing the story, and I'm sorry if there are mistakes. Please feel free to drop a review about ideas you have for upcoming chapters, as this is very free form for me.

Hope you enjoy it!

-IoI-

Prologue:

The truck idled quietly, and it was the only sound Max was really paying attention to. There were birds chirping. There was the gentle sound of the waves crashing against the beach. But Max wasn't listening to any of that. There were other sounds too, sounds she was more purposefully ignoring. The spark of electricity from ripped wires. The snapping sound of timbers and boards, already precariously balanced, drying in the sun and warping.

She drew her hoodie tighter around her, cold in the weak October light. Misery was descending like a black cloak all around her, but she crushed her eyes tightly shut.

 _Don't think about it Max._ She whispered inside her head, not looking at the broken and twisted cars, and the buildings that surely contained the just as broken forms of the people she had once cared about. Her dreams flickered in her mind like the weak and burning images from a warped film negative. All those people she'd imagined sitting in the diner. All those people, even herself.

"Max?"

Max's head snapped up and she looked around. Chloe. Chloe was striding towards her from where she'd stopped to check a wrecked car, her blue hair neon in the sun. She didn't stop as she drew closer, pulling the shaking smaller girl into her warm arms. Chloe's muscles clenched as she crushed Max against her chest. Max began to shudder, barely holding back the sobs.

"Shhh…." Chloe whispered, petting the soft brown hair. "I've got you Max… I've got you. I'm never letting go of you. Gently, Chloe scooped the shaking Max off of her feet and settled her into the soft leather of the truck seat. She wrapped a ratty blanket around the tiny girl's form.

"Need to get some food in you, darling…" She murmured softly, trying to stay calm and sooth Max with her words. "Some food, and a shower, a good place to rest…."

"I k-killed them." Max choked out. It was the first time she'd spoken since she'd torn the photo and hidden her face in Chloe's chest while the world around them had been obliterated. Chloe didn't speak, her voice caught in her throat. She couldn't deny what Max was saying even if she wanted to. "There are children's bodies around here that will never grow up because of me! I'm a murderer because I chose what I wanted!" Max's voice was rising in pitch, becoming more and more frantic. "I chose what I wanted over the good of everyone else, I'm selfish, I'm pathetic, I-!"

"I don't care!" Chloe cut Max off, pressing her cold lips to Max's shaking ones. Max's eyes closed softly as the two girls lost themselves entirely in the warmth of the kiss. They broke away and Chloe tenderly ran a thumb along Max's cheek. "Max… you chose me. How can I ever be sorry? I'm alive, right now, in this moment. I'm not dead in some bathroom… not in the ground like…" She shuddered. "I'm alive now because of you. I refuse to let you take the blame for this! I won't do it!" She shut the car door loudly, Max curled up inside, and peeled out of the parking lot.

It didn't take the two of them long to drive away from the town. They knew they wouldn't go far, not tonight. But Chloe had the money they'd taken from Wells' office in the glove compartment, and that was enough to get them to a motel a few towns over, at least for a couple days, then maybe to Portland. They had enough for rent for a few months while they got settled. Anything to be away from life.

Max knew she couldn't face her parents, or anyone she knew from before, she would rather they consider her dead. She wasn't even sure she wanted to keep her own name. No matter what Chloe said, what explanations she tried to present herself with, no matter the surge of love she felt rock through her when she glanced at the blue angel besides her, she'd always be a murderer in her mind. Even if it was worth it to have the love of her life with her, she had let friends, family, and children die for her own selfish reasons. She didn't feel like she deserved to be alive any more than them. She stayed curled up in the beat up seat besides Chloe, not speaking. She'd tried to rewind a few times, but nothing. Nothing worked. Her mind, her body. She was on autopilot now, letting Chloe take the lead. Given time, she was sure Chloe would come to hate her as much as she hated herself. After all, Chloe's mother was dead now because of her. A silent tear rolled down Max's cheek as she took a deep and calming breath.

Chloe watched her precious charge with worry. Not that she wasn't cracked up inside- hell, she could hardly function without the frequent smoking breaks, but loss wasn't new to her. In some ways, she felt like the town had already been gone for years. She and Joyce hadn't been close since William passed, and had drifted farther apart when David had started beating her and Joyce hadn't stepped in. For a little while she'd had a hope, but after what had happened to Rachel… there was nothing left in Arcadia Bay for her. In fact, the only thing that mattered to her in the world anymore was right next to her in the seat, half crying and half asleep. Chloe knew Max didn't need to be around the wreckage either, because she knew her best friend would never stop blaming herself. Max had done everything for her, to save her. She deserved better than Chloe would ever be able to give, but at least she could offer shelter and warm arms to curl into at night.

As the truck sped away from Arcadia Bay, there was a little more movement. Just a little. A man, limping down the main street of the town, watching the two girls from some rubble and hissing between his teeth. He wore the tattered and stained remains of a once fine dress shirt, and carried a small camera bag, what remained of his gear and work.

Mark Jefferson had seen the two girls descend from the lighthouse trail. Seen Chloe half carry Max to the truck, seen them kiss as Chloe tucked her inside. But they, so eager to avoid looking at the destruction, had not seen him. Hungrily, he licked his lips, his pleasure at seeing Max alive threatening to overwhelm him. But he dare not shout. It was an unmissable opportunity and to put them on alert to his presence would be… unforgivable. No, he needed to bide his time, as he'd done escaping the Dark Room.

It had been a simple matter, really. Stuck in the bunker with the incompetent school security officer who kept leaving him to check on the storm, try and get reception to call his wife… dispatching of him had been so… simple. A rip of tape. A reach for a needle. What had been far worse was realizing that his work was worthless now, as water had begun to flood into the bunker and he'd been tied to the chair. The idiot had refused to close the safe's door, and thousands of dollars of design had gone to waste as a wave water poured inside, knocking shelves over and destroying everything he'd killed to create.

It was Max's fault and he knew it, had known it then and knew it even more strongly now. Max, that timid girl from his class, the one he'd dreamed about, the one he'd obsessed over… he knew it was her fault, it had to be. Hadn't Matheson said that Max had tipped him off? When the storm had abated and he'd climbed out of the Dark Room, barely a few of his precious photos surviving, he thought only to find her body and take the pictures of it he so desperately needed. He needed the closure of her, and the fresh start.

His prayers had been answered in a way he'd never imagined possible, as he'd seen her, alive. Of course she had lived! She was his muse, and the gods smiled on him when he created his precious work. While the bodies of the useless common people of this town rotted under the rubble, the artist and subject had both survived. His twisted mind focused on it. Max… he had to have her. It was time to leave this pathetic town. He had money and friends outside of this place, artists who understood the good work he had been doing. He could follow her, find her… she'd never even know he was coming.

Jefferson found a car parked a little ways out of town, it had been left when its' owner tried to continue on foot. _Silly._ He thought. _If they'd stayed with the car, they might have their pathetic life._

It didn't matter. His mission would continue.

 _I'm coming for you, Maxine. One way or another, you'll be mine._


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys, hope you liked the last bit. Please enjoy more of my fic! Oh, and please leave a review. It helps with my desperate need for validation. –Ocean

-ooo-

Chloe woke to the sound of Max, screaming.

"Woah! Woah, are you okay?!" Chloe rolled out of her stupor in seconds, shoving blankets aside to get to the thrashing body of her best friend. Max was tossing, her legs wrapped up tightly, her face sweaty and her bangs stuck to her forehead.

"No!" she whimpered again, "No no no! Please! Oh god please stop!" Chloe gathered her lover close, cradling the shaking girl to her chest.

"Max, wake up! Shh, shh, you're dreaming- wake up!"

"Please Mr. Jefferson…" Max's voice shook. Chloe's blood ran cold at the words, and she froze, eyes wide. Max had said a few words to her about this. A brief explanation. That Jefferson, that photography teacher from the school Max had been crushing on, was the reason Rachel had died. That in some warped and alternate reality Chloe had no memory of, he had done horrible things to Max. There had been no time for Max to explain, and Chloe hadn't wanted to press it after the events of the lighthouse.

If it was bad enough that Max was having nightmares about it instead of the storm, though…

"Please!" Max sobbed, choking on her own breath and tears in Chloe's arms. "Please just let me go! Oh god please, not again!"

 _I've got to wake her up._ Chloe thought, shaking her head softly. She shook Max, softly at first and then harder.

"Max, wake up! Come on girl, please. Please wake up!" She softly struck Max's cheek, shaking her. Max seemed locked in her dream, softly whimpering and struggling very feebly against Chloe's hold. Chloe winced, and slapped her a little harder. _Sorry Angel…_

"W-wha?" Max sat up dizzily, gasping softly for breath. "W-where am… o-oh… oh Chloe… oh thank god you're alive!" She threw her arms tightly around Chloe's neck, hanging on for dear life. She started to sob dryly against Chloe. "Oh god you're alive and you're not hurt… I thought for a second… maybe it was another timeline… another me… but it was just a dream…"

"What happened?" Chloe asked softly, running her hands through Max's sweaty hair.

"It was h-horrible…" Max whispered. "H-he was horrible. His hands," She shuddered hard, her breath catching. "He was taking pictures of me again."

Chloe's eyes narrowed, and she felt white hot fury begin to flood through her veins. "What did he do to you Max? Did he- did-" She couldn't bring to say the words, but she had to know. Max looked at her, eyes large.

"He didn't rape me… if that's what you're asking." Max whispered. Relief flooded Chloe's body, though her anger didn't abate. "Just drugged me, arranged me," Max brushed tears. "Took his sick photographs. Touched me a little." She shuddered. "I think if he'd raped me, it would have ruined what he wanted. All he wanted was photographs of my so-called innocence."

"Innocence?" The word was out of Chloe's mouth before she could stop it, fury rippling through her. "He kidnapped you, drugged you, and killed Rachel in the name of _innocence?"_

Max nodded, shaking. "The look in his eyes when he looked at me, Chloe… like he was hungry. Like he couldn't wait to finish taking his pictures. If David hadn't saved me... he was going to kill me, and I don't know what he would have done to my body…"

Chloe's blood boiled in her veins as she clenched her girlfriend closer. "If the storm hadn't killed that motherfucker, I would have Max. He deserves to die painfully for what he did to you, and Kate-"

"-And so many other girls, too." Max whispered, staring at the cheap curtains.

The girls sat in silence, trying to ignore the lack of comfort afforded by their cheap motel. Bugs crawled on the thin carpet floor, the bathroom dripped constantly, and the lights flickered. It wasn't much, but the rooms elsewhere were filled with people who had stopped for the night to avoid the stormy coastline.

"Max-" Chloe began, attempting to sooth her.

"Please don't." It was a whisper but it sounded like a whimper and it broke Chloe's heart. "Please don't try and comfort me. I know you can. I know you will. But I'm so tired, Chloe… I just want to sleep. Please just hold me while I sleep."

Max curled into Chloe's arms and the two leaned back into the soft mountain of pillows, Chloe clicking off the lamp and cradling Max close in the quiet darkness. This time, Max slept like the dead until morning.

-ooo-

Max's room. 109. How appropriate, the first floor would make it easy to move in and take her to his car. He'd take 115 then, just a few rooms down. It had only taken a bit of sweet talking to the old lady running the motel to find out where she was staying, that she and her 'funny friend with the tattoos' had gotten there just an hour or two before. He knew they wouldn't go anywhere. They had to recuperate from the storm.

He didn't intend to stay any longer than the night anyway, he just wanted to catch Max on her own, avoid having to fight off her punk fool of a protector when he didn't just have a gun to put the bitch in the ground where she belonged, and even though he intended to get one, it would be messy if anyone found the body. No, it would be easier to avoid all that mess of an Arcadia Bay survivor being killed, and just take what belonged to him and leave. He hoped he'd catch Max still half asleep, dazed from the events of the storm.

He rubbed his hands together in delight. She would have no one left. Everyone would assume she died in the storm, and he could keep her forever with no consequences. No meddlesome police trying to figure out where a kidnapped girl had gone, no missing persons posters… nothing. He could break her and remake her as much as his heart desired.

Jefferson bought new clothes at the overnight store while the two girls slept. He showered in room, wanting to be clean for his little dove. He bought a handgun from the late night pawn shop. Then he returned to his car in the lot, and waited. As the sky began to grey in preparation for sunrise, Jefferson waited and stared at her door.

His rewards paid off when he saw Chloe leave the room at eight fifteen, striding to the diner across the road. He stepped out of his car, keeping his sunglasses on and his hat low. Just a little closer. Soon he'd be reunited with her, then the dreams would stop and he could make art again. He'd never taken a photo of Max, and he knew she'd be the gem of his collection.

The door opened the second he reached out to put his hand on the metal knob, and he came face to face with _her._

Max opened the door, ice bucket in her hand, and thought she had stepped into a nightmare. With a clatter, the plastic tub fell to the pavement floor.

"Hello Maxine." He drawled, as she choked in terror, stumbling backwards.

"Y-you!" She yelped, grabbing for the door. Jefferson smirked and took her arm.

"I've found you!" His voice sounded like a struggle to stay calm, with hints of a sick hunger. "Relax. You're coming with me, Maxine. Thank goodness I've found you. Your parents were so worried, and I need to get you back to them."

"Let go of me!" Max jumped back, trying to close the door. "I'm not going anywhere with you!" Her voice was high pitched and panic stricken. Jefferson frowned. There was no way she should know what he intended and yet… it didn't matter. Just seeing her was nearly overwhelming in its own right. He gripped her by the front of the shirt.

"Let's not make a scene, Maxine." He smirked, covering her mouth with his other hand. Max struggled roughly against him as he pulled her into his arms, gripping hers tight to her sides and keeping her mouth covered. Picking her up bodily, he carried her across the parking lot to his car and popped the trunk, ignoring her muffled yelps. Max kicked at him, then bit down hard on his hand. He snarled and shoved the handgun under her chin, but not before she cried out.

"CHLOE!" Max's scream tore from her lungs and rang across the parking lot, where Chloe was just walking back with two breakfasts and coffee. It took her less than a second to realize what was going on.

"LET GO OF HER YOU FUCKER!" Chloe couldn't see who was dragging Max towards the black sedan, but it didn't matter to her. She threw down the breakfast and broke into a dead sprint towards the figures. _"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH HER!"_

 _"CHLOE!"_ Max screamed again, voice desperate. With a snarl, Jefferson shoved the tiny girl into his trunk. She must have weighed nothing, a hundred pounds soaking wet. Shutting the trunk on her was simple, and made her screams muffled as she kicked and clawed at the inside of the car. Chloe was almost to him though. He pointed his gun and fired.

Chloe saw the arm moving, saw the gun coming up before he fired. _Max can't save me. I have to do this_ flashed through her head in the instant. Without thinking, she dove behind the tail end of a nearby sedan, flattening herself to it and hearing the dull thud of bullet on metal. Jefferson didn't care. He hadn't wanted to kill her anyway, just get away with his angel. He jumped into the car and slammed on the gas, car tires shrieking as he peeled out of the parking lot.

"NO!" Chloe screamed, sprinting after the car as it pulled onto the highway. She turned and slammed her keys into the lock of her truck, jumping in. That freak wasn't getting away with Max.

 _"I'm coming Max! Hang on!"_


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys!

First of all, thank you for the overwhelming positive response to my story. It means a lot to me, to see all the reviews, follows and favorites and the views that are piling up on the site. With all this election insanity, it's good to see the goodness in the world around me.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter. As always, feedback is vastly appreciated.

Also, drive safely dear readers.

-Ocean

-ooo-

Chloe peeled out onto the open highway, her tires burning rubber onto the concrete as she turned sharply to follow Jefferson's car. Jefferson didn't care, swerving through traffic much faster than was safe as he headed for the freeway with his prize.

"No you don't, fucker." Chloe growled as she wrenched sideways on the wheel to swerve, narrowly avoiding an oncoming minivan. The old pickup groaned as she rammed her foot on the gas pedal, eyes locked on the car ahead of her. The blue-haired teen leaned forward on the wheel and grit her teeth as the car gave a lurch and went forward at a much higher speed.

Jefferson snarled in frustration as he saw the truck follow him onto the highway. He should have just murdered that punk bitch, like he had countless times before. He hadn't wanted to leave a crime scene behind, but he also hadn't wanted to deal with… problems… like this while he was getting his beloved safely away. He threaded between cars, his newer and faster vehicle outstripping Chloe easily as he made for the exit out of this shitty little town.

Chloe was having none of it, honking loudly to get cars out of her way as she followed him. Her car might be slower, but she knew it well, and she followed him in and out of the spaces between cars as she tried desperately to keep up. Max was in there, her girlfriend who needed her. That murderer wasn't going to get away with this, not again, especially not after the evidence of his previous crimes was buried in Arcadia Bay. She had no intention of losing almost everyone she'd ever cared about in the space of forty-eight hours. She yelled in frustration as a slow car tried to pull in front of her, blaring her horn and whipping around the shoulder in order to get in front of again. Her tires screamed in protest as she forced the truck to go faster than it was designed for.

They blazed onto the freeway, the black car and the beige truck, in hot pursuit of each other. _Where are all the fucking cops!?_ Chloe swore angrily under her breath. A cop would pull them both over, and save Max. But there were none on this mostly empty section of highway, early morning mist still rising from the pavement.

Max tried to struggle upright in the trunk. There had to be an escape lever around here somewhere, newer cars had them, it should be glow in the dark. She located the line of wire, but Jefferson had cut the tag off, and the wire was tucked in too far for her to reach. She screamed loudly and threw her weight against the inside seat, hoping to knock it inwards, but no use. She turned back to face the back of the trunk again and started pulling up the cloth that covered the bottom, hoping to get a weapon. Anything that would help her fight him off when the car stopped and he came for her, as she knew he would. Her hand landed on a tire iron under the spare and she grinned. This just might do it.

Chloe was losing him and she knew it so she pushed herself to drive even faster than she already was. She kept repeating the plate number in her head, wanting it memorized so she could track him. It had family stickers on the back of it, though, so she suspected it might not be his car.

The truck came from nowhere. In reality, Chloe, so focused on the chase, had run a red light and the truck had just been going on its own way. None the less, Chloe smashed into the tail end of the truck, sending both of them spinning. Chloe threw up her hands as glass shattered everywhere around her and a shockwave wrenched through the truck. The truck spun sideways and hit a guardrail, smashing through it and tumbling over and over again down into a ditch.

Jefferson smirked and drove away. Good enough for him if the bitch was dead by accident, now no one would follow him again. He hit the gas and shot down the freeway. It wasn't that far from here to Portland, a city where he had friends and contacts. His money, along with most of the money he'd spun away from Nathan, was all held digitally and his card, tucked safely into his phone tucked into his inside jacket pocket, and survived when most everything else had gone. Everything was going so deliciously to plan. He could hear Max kicking and screaming from inside of the trunk, music to his ears. Gods, he was almost salivating at the thought of taking her photos. Surely he could find somewhere, some desolate little exit, where he could get out and take just a few? It had been so long, and he wanted to capture that scared little face, all soaked with sweat and tears.

He turned the car off onto an exit and started looking for a side road. It didn't take him long to find a deserted little gas station with an old junkyard building he could roll behind. No one was around, good. No one to hear her scream. Thank the god's he'd bought duct tape so he could cover that pretty little mouth. He'd like to have her sit next to him for the rest of the drive, if he could just get her to be quiet.

Max heard Jefferson walking closer and firmly gripped the tire iron, ready to crack it against him the moment he got within range. She heard the trunk pop, and with a shout of rage, she swung it at the center of mass. Jefferson doubled over in pain, gasping as Max ripped past him, trying to take off across the parking lot.

 _"HELP!"_ Max screamed, but no one heard her in the empty junk lot. She sprinted away from Jefferson, who had caught his breath and was running directly behind her. His legs were longer and more powerful, and he caught her easily, his arm slipping around his waist. She screamed and struggled, kicking and fighting against him, as he carried her back to the car bodily. He slammed her against the window, wrapping his hand around her neck and started to choke her.

The breath caught in Max's lungs as she struggled to draw breath, Jefferson's hand tightly around her throat. Her hands scrabbled helplessly at his, as her face began to go very red from lack of air. There was a buzzing in her lips and a darkness around the edges of her eyes.

"You will behave, Maxine." His voice was a feral snarl in her ears. "Life has spoiled you, but I will teach you to behave. No muse of mine will run from me, do you understand? Not after what I've been through to make you mine." He dropped her. She collapsed weakly onto the ground, gasping for air and unable to stand as he opened the car door and began peeling free lengths of duct tape.

"C-chloe." She whispered slowly.

"What's that?" Jefferson snapped at her. She lifted her head, voice shaking, but determined.

"Chloe will come for me. Chloe will always come for me." Max whispered, looking him dead in the eyes. To her surprise, a wide smile spread across his face. The smile did not reach his eyes, which reflected first dark anger, then look of subtle fear. A shudder ran along her spine.

"Chloe is dead." He laughed softly, smirking in delight. "I killed her myself. Or made sure she died, either way."

Max's stomach dropped as he stared at her, but she could only think one thing as he placed the tape over her mouth.

 _If Chloe is dead, why is there fear in his eyes?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey all! Sorry for the long delay between the last chapter and this one. I've been having a really difficult semester, and recently had to move into a new home very suddenly. Needless to say it's been rough. Anyway I wanted to continue on with the story, especially since I have tons of ideas for how to get it to the end! Hope you all enjoy it._

 _Also, in case you couldn't tell, I'm a psychology major. In the real world, ethics are a concern, but I don't think Jefferson feels the same way. In a no holds barred, non-ethical psychology world, some of the techniques discovered in behaviorism could have massive impacts on the behaviors of others. I will strive to stay as true to the detail and realism of behavioral psychology as I am able. If Game of Thrones can do it, so can I! -Ocean_

-ooo-

Chloe woke to the methodical beeping of a heart monitor and the strong clinical smell of a hospital ward. Last time she'd smelled this was visiting Kate, and it hadn't been great then either. It was sharp and made her feel sick.

The pain was the next sensation. As Chloe slowly opened her eyes, wave after wave of pain washed over her body. She shuddered softly, feeling dull aches throughout her arms and legs, and sharp pains through her ribs. She'd slammed into the steering wheel, she remembered that. Her ankle hurt terribly, from hitting the break hard, no doubt. She'd been chasing Max.

 _Max._

Chloe started trying to push herself upright, panic returning to her as the reality of the situation descended on her. She had little to no information to give anyone, and that monster had Max and was taking her god knows where. She'd lost her lead when she'd gotten into the accident.

"Woah there! Calm down Miss Price!" It was the soft voice of a nurse, rushing over when she saw Chloe struggling to get upright in bed. "You've got a few fractured ribs, some other injuries, and a concussion. You need to stay relaxed."

"You don't understand!" Chloe began to protest, struggling to sit up. "My girlfriend, she was kidnapped, that's why I was driving so fast-"

"Please calm down, Miss Price!" The nurse cut her off, pushing firmly down on her shoulders. "I understand you've been in a stressful situation but you need to stop moving!"

Chloe gulped a few deep breaths and fought down the panic rising in her. She needed to get help, but acting like she'd lost her mind would only make more people believe that she was suffering head trauma.

"I need to see the officer presiding over my accident." Chloe breathed out slowly. "Please."

"He'll be here soon, Miss Price. Please relax. Are you hungry?"

"No." Chloe fought to keep the bitter anger out of her voice. So the cop wasn't here? Even better. _Useless, self important-_ she started to rant mentally, reflecting on how the cops in Arcadia Bay had been Prescott playthings. They hadn't helped with Rachel, hadn't believed what she'd tried to tell them about how she wouldn't have run away. They hadn't cared about how she was missing. Now she was dead, along with how many others in the Bay, when she could have been free anywhere with Chloe. Rachel was underground in the junkyard because those cops hadn't cared. She could still see the scraps of fabric and smell the rotting flesh.

 _I can't let him do that to Max. I have to save her._

The cop arrived sooner than he was expected, but it felt like an eternity to Chloe, who was imagining all the horrible things Jefferson could be doing to Max.

"Miss... Price was it? Miss Price, you were in a two car accident, you want to tell me what happened?"

"Yes, I do! My girlfriend, Max, was kidnapped from our hotel this morning! I was following the car!"

The officer sighed. It had been a long day. First there was the horrible storm in Arcadia Bay, killing hundreds and losing most of their search and rescue crew to help. Then there had been the flooding. The waves and waves of water that had spilled out of the swollen rivers and filled the surrounding towns, washing away businesses and homes. He was stretched to the maximum, and here was this crazy teenage girl with blue hair, ranting about how her girlfriend had been kidnapped when she was probably just suffering from a concussion.

"Your, uh, girlfriend was kidnapped?"

"Yes! By Mark Jefferson. He's a teacher at Blackwell Academy." Great, she was delusional too. Probably suffering from PTSD. A thought struck him.

"Ma'am are you from Arcadia Bay?"

"Yes! My girlfriend and I got out after the storm!"

"You... got out after the storm? The storm that leveled the town?"

"YES!" Chloe's voice was taking on a sharp, angry edge as the officer continued to ask pointless questions that didn't help with the situation. "And Jefferson survived too, and he wanted Max for his darkroom so he kidnapped her-"

The officer rubbed his eyes and stared down at his blank notepad. "Ma'am, Blackwell Academy collapsed. Most of the teachers are presumed dead."

"This one survived, I'm telling you! And he kidnapped Max! Maxine Caulfield, she's a student at Blackwell, I swear."

"Alright, alright." The officer muttered. Better to shut her up. He'd look into it, of course, file a missing persons report with the appropriate personnel, but all he could think of now was the evacuation traffic he was going to have to deal with this afternoon from the flooded areas. "Just give me her name... the abductor's name...you got a plate number? Yeah, sure, give it to me." He scribbled down the information and nodded before leaving.

 _What a waste of time._ Chloe growled to herself. If the officer wouldn't help her, she'd find someone else who would. Chloe retrieved her phone from her jacket pocket, brushed the nurse away, and began to search through her contacts.

-ooo-

 _Why didn't you save us Max?_

Max woke with one cheek against the cold, damp concrete of the floor, eyes full of tears. She'd been dreaming of the people in the cafe, the one she'd seen when she'd rewound too much. The people angry with her because of all the dreams they'd never fulfill, the life they'd never live. They were gone now. She'd let them die to save Chloe, and it didn't matter, because Chloe had died anyway. A shudder went through Max. Chloe had died anyway.

She started to sit up, slowly, wincing in pain as her cheek and the palm of her hand scraped against the rough concrete. This was no plush and beautiful darkroom. Where had Jefferson taken her? Her hands and feet were tightly bound with rough cords that bit into her skin, but there was no duct tape over her mouth. Max felt her skin crawl. It was all too familiar, too horrible to be reality. Jefferson, Chloe, no one alive would or could remember that Max had been in that terrible darkroom. Had it really happened? Had that reality ever existed? It didn't matter.

Here and now, she was Jefferson's captive.

 _Chloe isn't dead. She can't be dead._

Max groaned weakly as she pushed herself fully upright. Her stomach squeezed painfully. How long had it been since she'd eaten? Her lips were cracked and dry. She hadn't had a drink in hours. She had to stay strong for Chloe to come and save her.

Then again, Chloe hadn't saved her from the darkroom last time either, had she... Max had saved herself using the rewind. She couldn't rewind anymore, she hadn't been able to since the storm, but this time Chloe would save her.

Wouldn't she?

Max looked around slowly and noticed a computer sitting upright on the other side of the room, a red light on next to the webcam. She felt her stomach twist in horror and revulsion. He'd been watching her? She froze, but it was too late. She could no longer pretend she was asleep.

As if in response to her movement, she heard sound above her. He must have actually been watching her from another place in the building, house, basement or wherever she was. There were no windows, just a single creaking wooden staircase leading upwards. A door opened somewhere above, and a ray of golden light cut through the darkness to where she was lying.

"Maxine, good! You're awake." She didn't look at him, kept her eyes tightly shut as she heard him descending the staircase. She could smell that aftershave he always wore. How could she ever have thought that was a pleasant smell? His shoes tapped on the concrete as he drew closer to her. With her head down, she could just see their shiny black tops in her vision, refusing to look up at him.

"Maxine... aren't you hungry? Thirsty? There's no need for us to be like this." She felt his hand, smooth and cold, brush the top of her head and she flinched away from it. "Darling, I just want to help you."

"Stay away from me!" She spat at him, glaring at his shoes. His hand tightened in her hair, jerking her head back hard so their eyes met. His were full of fury.

"You aren't going to be talking to me like that, Maxine. Do you understand?" His tone was dark now, and he shook her head roughly. She whimpered in pain.

"Y-yes." She choked out.

"Now are you going to come upstairs like a good girl, or am I going to have to leave you locked up down here another few hours?"

You wouldn't know it, looking at him, but Mark Jefferson hadn't always been a photographer. In college, it hadn't been a major, but a hobby. He took photos for the paper, art classes, eventually a minor, and found he had a real knack for it. His photos had started to get more and more recognition, until he'd finished his degree and then transferred to a school of the arts, where he'd studied full time to become the master he was today.

He hadn't always been as fascinated with the image as he was now. The image manipulated the mind. Tricked it, persuaded it, captured it. But what of the mind itself? Mark had gone to school to study that mind, and found his place in the illustrious psychology department of his school. Behavioral psychology, in fact. He still had his bachelor's in it. He'd used it to control classrooms, to convince subjects they could fulfill his expectations. He'd used it to train his girlfriend before they'd separated years ago. Conditioning was one of the most powerful psychological tools in existence, and it was Mark Jefferson's to command.

He knew what it would take, with Maxine. He'd have to break her first, of course. Strip her down to the core of who she was, before conditioning her into who he wanted. Punish those acts of rebellion until the weak fires left in her eyes were entirely smothered. Lavishly reinforce those tiny acts that would lead to the behaviors he wanted. J. B. Watson, one of his role models, had once boasted that given five children, he could mold them into anything he wanted, doctor to criminal, merely using respondent and operant conditioning. Jefferson knew he could do the same with his beloved, especially since he was not bound by the pathetic restraints of ethics as a licensed psychologist would be.

"Are you going to come upstairs with me now, Maxine?" Jefferson reached into his pocket, taking out the device he'd bought while Maxine had slept. She glared at him, and he smiled down at her in what he hoped was a fatherly, caring way. God her face, so perfect, she was an angel in front of the camera or away from it. He'd get that hatred out of her eyes.

"Go fuck yourself, Jefferson."

"I'd like you to call me Mark."

"Go fuck yourself, Mark."

Jefferson laughed softly as he reached around Maxine's neck and attached the clasp. It could have been a choker necklace, but for the black plastic box attached to it. Waterproof, soundless, the best on the market, and the perfect tool for fast conditioning. Maxine fought him a little, of course, but her hands were bound.

"Now now now, that's not the attitude to take. Not with me." He pushed the button in his hand.

The scream was music in his ears as she fell backwards onto the floor, whimpering in pain. A sob escaped her as the shock subsided. Just a small dose on what the device could do.

"We're going to try this again." Jefferson squatted down next to her, petting her head softly. "Would you like to come upstairs with me, Maxine?"

Max took a deep, shaking breath, trying to keep her voice under control.

"G-go to hell."

Jefferson had expected this and laughed, standing and walking away from her. There was a large bucket in the corner Max had just noticed. He picked it up and she saw some liquid splash over the rim.

"Maxine, we can play this game as long as you'd like. How about a few more hours to consider your position, mm?"

Max tried to back up quickly, to scramble away from him, but her hands and feet were bound so tight it ached. Jefferson easily caught up to her and poured the contents of the bucket over her head. Ice water. Max shook soundlessly as the water poured over her skin, sending her into shockwaves of pain from the cold.

Jefferson walked to the base of the staircase and clicked on a thermostat, far out of Max's bound reach. Cold air began to dump into the room.

"I'll be back in a few hours, Maxine. Take that time to consider how you'd like this to go."


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys, sorry again for the long delays between chapters. I am living in a friend's bedroom right now, and it's kind of a rough situation. Not to mention that I'm in my senior year of school, which is really kind of a nightmare XD Anyway, don't worry, I will finish the story, I do have it planned to the end. It's just gonna take some time._

 _So, TWs for this chapter, because it needs to happen: F-slur, mild sexual abuse, emotional abuse. Oh, and smoking. If those things aren't good for you to read, you might want to skip this chapter. In that vein though, this might not be the story for you because those are going to be prevalent for most of the story. I do want to make it clear to my readers, however, that this is not a celebration of non-con, it's just part of this story in all its ugly glory. These are topics that people experience, and they need to be discussed with no filters, no romanticizing and no glorification._

 _Thank you all for sticking with Obsessed. If you like it, please leave a review? Every time I get a review it makes me want to sit down and write a new chapter like, RIGHT THERE, it just warms my heart more than I can possibly describe._

 _Hugs and love to all, Ocean._

 _P.S. Hope you guys like the new story cover image!_

-ooo-

Max was cold. So cold. The cold wrapped around her, made it hard to move or breathe or think. Her lips were turning blue from the horrible cold, her fingers hurt to move. She wanted to cry, but it hurt when she choked out the sobs. The collar was rough against her neck, her hair matted around her ears. Her skin was pale and her eyes puffy. She shuddered, miserable. There was no way to know how much time had passed since Jefferson had gone, and Max's resolve was crumbling.

 _I'm strong… I'm like one of those girls, the ones in the movies… I'll never give in to him…_ she repeated to herself, again and again, eyes tight shut as the cold fabric of her clothes rubbed against her. The denim hurt, and the damp hoodie clung to her like a second layer of skin. The ropes that he'd tied around her wrists and ankles bit into the skin, leaving rashes. Her stomach grumbled and she felt desperately hungry.

Would it be so bad to give in, just a little bit? If she played his game… if she gave him what he wanted… she could play along and pretend to change for him, couldn't she? Long enough for Chloe to-

 _Chloe isn't going to save you Max. You're all alone here. Chloe's dead, remember? She's gone._ The cruel voice in her head whispered. _Remember, you let all those people die to save her- now she's gone and you're going to die. Maybe you should have let her die then instead._ Max shut her eyes tight, hot tears stinging against her cold cheeks as they slipped out unbidden. She tried to shut down the train of thought, but it didn't want to be ignored. How could she ignore it? She could still see the tornado, ripping through the town, throwing boards and cars... and bodies. Everyone she'd saved as she tried to get through the town, they'd died in this timeline. In this reality. Had the diner exploded, with Joyce and Warren and Frank inside? They deserved better than what she'd done to them.

 _Chloe wouldn't be dead if Jefferson hadn't come after me. It's his fault,_ Max tried to tell herself, shaking, her back aching from the hours of sitting with no support, _it's not mine._

 _Jefferson didn't cause the storm, Max. You could have saved everyone, you worthless faggot-_

"SHUT UP!" Max screamed aloud, her voice echoing in the empty basement, desperation clear. Her throat hurt to use. She started to sob, her will breaking into a thousand pieces. She was hungry, she was tired, and she was cold. Every part of her body hurt, and Chloe wasn't coming. Chloe was never going to save her.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and Jefferson's shadow cut a figure on the floor in the square of warm yellow light from the hallway behind him. He moved quickly down the stairs, coming to stand in front of the sobbing girl.

"Maxine… darling, please… let me help you?"

She looked up at him, and he could see she was shattered. It was working better than he could have dreamed.

"W-what… what d-do you want?" She asked, her voice shaking with the heaviness of the sobs she was holding back.

"I want to take care of you, my sweet." He knelt and put a hand on her cheek, rubbing in soft circles with his thumb. It felt like ice. She didn't flinch away, her eyes closing as she whimpered in pleasure from the warmth of his palm. "I just need you to want that too."

Max's lip trembled. She wanted to eat. She wanted to be warm. She could play his game… she could… couldn't she? Just a little bit?

"W-what do I have to do?" Jefferson's face broke into a wide smile, showing too many of his perfect white teeth.

"How about… you start by saying your name?" Max blinked in confusion, opened her cracked lips and said slowly,

"M-max Caulfield…"

Instantly, the shock. Max screamed, her hands flying to her throat as her nails dug into her pale skin, trying to tear the thing away. Mark grabbed her hands, not wanting her to damage herself. He'd have to cut those nails.

"Your full name, my sweet." Tears welled in the girl's eyes as she whispered dully,

"M-Maxine." Jefferson's lips were warm as he kissed the base of her throat softly, holding her head tilted to one side. She shook quietly, but didn't jerk away from him. She didn't want to be shocked again, and she knew that he'd do it if she pulled away. He smiled as he kissed his way up to her ear and whispered softly,

"That's right… Maxine." His hand ran up her side as she clenched her eyes tight shut, feeling the curves of her body and holding her frozen form against his solid, warm one. His angel, where she belonged. Max felt like she was going to vomit. She only opened her eyes when he let go of her. A knife blade flicked open in Jefferson's hands. For a moment, Max thought he was going to cut her and jerked away, but he merely split the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles.

"Are you going to run away, Maxine?" He asked, knife blade still open. Max rubbed her wrists weakly and shook her head, shivering. He smiled again. "Good girl… will you come upstairs with me, so you can get warm?" He smiled lecherously, and Max felt her soul crush inside of her. It was too much to resist though, she needed the warmth, needed something, anything, to eat. She nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose. Jefferson wrapped his arms around her slumped shoulders and helped her stand, then scooped her up like a princess, holding her tight in his arms as he walked up the stairs. The basement was left, dark and empty, as the door slammed shut.

-ooo-

She hadn't had a smoke in what felt like years, and God she needed one. Chloe sat on the bench outside of the hospital, waiting. She'd given her mother's information to the billing office when they checked her out, trying to ignore the feelings in the pit of her stomach. Her poor mother. She didn't deserve what happened to her- no one in Arcadia bay had deserved that. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to push the feelings aside. It had been Max's decision, and for better or worse, she was glad to still be breathing.

Thinking of Max didn't make it better. Chloe focused on her hands, trying to keep them from shaking, trying to keep her thoughts off her girlfriend and whatever twisted things that fucker Jefferson might be doing to her. She felt sick to her stomach, and struggled to ignore it. He'd said he'd be here at three… well, it was 3:15, and she wasn't feeling particularly patient. She swore under her breath, her knee bouncing to release nervous energy.

The red sedan pulled smoothly up to the curb and honked, catching Chloe's attention. Her head jerked up as the driver turned on the hazards and got out, turning towards her. He was tall, with dirty blonde hair and the look of a model. He was wearing a polo and some well-fitting slacks, a pair of Dior sunglasses hiding his eyes. Chloe broke into a wide grin. He waved and grinned back at her.

"Chloe! It's so good to see you!" In an instant, she was in his arms, held tight to his chest. She sighed, breathing in the smell. It was like a distant, vibrant, echoed dream. So like _her,_ but so different. "What the hell are you doing out here? I heard about the bay on the morning news, but I didn't think I'd hear from you… unless…" he frowned, "is it something about Ray?"

Chloe's shoulders slumped. "Sean… I have… I'm so sorry."

Sean's face darkened. "Chloe… no… please, god, tell me she's not-"

Chloe shook her head slowly. Sean turned and sank heavily onto the bench. His shoulders sank, and he put his face into his hands. He could not have looked more different from the man who'd stepped out of the car, he looked broken. Chloe put a hand on his shoulder, feeling weak and sick to her stomach. Rachel's brother had been one of her best friends before he'd left the Bay, two years ago. Now she was going to have to break the news to him, since Rachel's parents, far away in New York, had no idea. After a few deep breaths, Sean looked up.

"Give it to me straight, Chloe. What happened to her?"

"She was murdered." Sean's fists clenched in his lap.

"All those goddamn cops just said she'd run away. Those fuckers didn't do a thing to help her, and she was _murdered?!"_ Chloe nodded, but her voice was shaking with emotions she was trying to hold back. Sean looked up at her, his anger fading into concern. "Chloe, what is it?"  
"T-the psycho who killed her," Chloe's voice was thick with tears. "He survived the storm, Sean, I know who it is. H-He…" she choked out a sob, the repressed emotions finally tearing through, "Sean he kidnapped my girlfriend, he's going to murder her too! A-and I tried to tell the cops, they think I'm crazy, or lying, and I swear, if I lose o-one more person-" she dissolved into ragged sobs, clutching at the front of Sean's polo. He pressed the back of her head, rubbing it quietly.

"You know who did it?" His voice was quiet and deadly. "You know who murdered my sister?"

"Y-yeah. It was Mark Jefferson, the photograpy teacher at Blackwell." Sean's back went straight, and his fists clenched.

" _The_ Mark Jefferson!? From Seattle?!"

"Yeah, t-that's the one."

"I've worked with that fucker before! My girls said he gave them the creeps… how the hell did you find out it was him?"

Chloe tried to explain it, but she was shaking too hard to say anything. Sean slid a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, giving it to her. Chloe took a grateful drag, feeling the familiar sense of calmness and clarity the drug brought. She took a few deep breaths, and started at the beginning. By the time she was done talking, they'd gotten in Sean's car, gotten lunch, and hit the open road in the direction of Seattle. Sean said very little, accepting everything wordlessly, asking only a few questions related to Max's superpower. When Chloe got to the part about finding Rachel's body in the junkyard, he gripped the wheel tight, making a choking sound. Other than that, he remained perfectly silent until she was done talking. When she finished, there was silence in the car.

"I'm going to rip his spine out of his asshole." Sean spoke up after five minutes, calm as glass. "And then I'm going to feed it to him, so it has to go through again." Chloe managed a small smile, leaning back against the seat. Exhaustion was sweeping over her in waves. "Jefferson used to work out of Seattle, Chloe. I'm sure that's where he took your girl. I've run in the same circles he has."

"I've got to find her." Chloe mumbled. "I promised her I'd keep her safe, and I didn't. I just let him take her."

"It sounds like he's been a lot smarter than we've given him credit for." Sean navigated deftly between a few cars, turning on the headlights as the sun began to set. October days were short. Chloe looked at the dashboard clock and realized she'd talked for at least two hours. "But he doesn't know I'm Rachel's brother, and he doesn't know you're still alive."

Chloe was drifting out, exhausted, as she tried to keep everything straight. It was better than nothing. It was a plan. Once she got to Sean's house she could rest, could recover from the aches of her broken bones and get Max away from that monster…

Chloe was asleep before the sun was fully down.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! Thank you for all the amazing responses to the last chapter. It means the world to me. Now that my life is a little more steady I'm going to be updating on a schedule (and I may be starting another fanfic soon so those of you who like my writing style and want to read it, author follow me) so that I can make sure to get the updates out on a timely basis instead of like, 'whateves I should write another chapter of Obsessed or something' during my weekly half hour of freetime. SO, the release time for Obsessed will be a new chapter on a bi-weekly basis, around 8pm (give or take like half an hour) EST on Thursdays. Yay!_

 _Trigger warnings for this chapterrrr: Rape implication, abuse, assault… the works. You know the drill, Jefferson's a creep and it's not gonna get better._

 _Hope you all like it! Please leave reviews, they make my heart happy!_

 _-Ocean_

-ooo-

When Chloe woke up, it was because the soft flash of passing streetlights had become the steady glow of a brightly lit city. She sat up, rubbing the sleep slowly from her eyes and yawning. Sean smiled over at her.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Chlo. We're almost there." Chloe glanced out the window. They were downtown, traffic thick all around them and tall buildings with thousands of glass windows trapping the sky into a tiny box of black.

"When did you get this well off, dude?" Chloe asked, scratching the back of her neck and rolling her shoulders. God, she hurt, mostly in the ribs. Fractures, the nurse had said. Plus that pesky concussion business. She forced herself fully upright, raising her seat back. It was almost midnight. Sean had driven a long way to get her.

"Well, you know, managing models is where the money's at." Sean joked. "No, my boyfriend makes a hell of a lot more money than I ever will."

Chloe smirked. "Well you know he only dates you for your looks, right?"

"Never asked for anything more, baby!" Sean laughed, a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes, and faded quickly back to that look of exhaustion and determination. Chloe understood, her knees to her chest in the seat as she stared out the window. She was nursing an emotion inside her, the burning, seething hatred she'd felt for Nathan was turned on Jefferson now. She wanted to shred him into a thousand tiny pieces and destroy everything he'd ever stood for.

"So how are we going to find him?" She asked, leaning forwards to pull her boots back on.

"I've been thinking a lot about that." Sean responded after as he guided the car through the ebb and flow of traffic. "I think that we're going to have to track him professionally and go from there."

"Track him professionally?" Chloe frowned as he took a left between two large buildings.

"Mmm, yeah." Sean stopped under a large awning. "C'mon."

"What, you're just gonna leave the car on the street?"

"Please… I've got valet parking." Sean smirked as a man in a suit took his keys. Chloe's eyebrow went up.

"Doin real fucking well for yourself, Sean Amber."

"Yeah, well, I got lucky. I just… I was going to invite you and Rachel up here when she graduated but…" he shook his head as they walked through the large glass doors. Chloe looked around. It was fancy, not penthouse fancy but Sean's boyfriend was obviously rich. They took the elevator to the eighteenth floor, and Chloe followed Sean down the well-lit hall to a large room. Sean unlocked a door at the end and let her into a beautifully paneled hallway. He didn't seem much like he wanted to talk, and she followed him to the kitchen. No one else was home.

"Where's Richard?" Chloe asked, looking around at the sparkling kitchen, the windows that showed the glittering city spread all around them. Sean took two beers out of the fridge.

"China, I think. He gets home tomorrow. Company meeting or something." He knocked the beer cap off on the counter. Chloe smirked. He hadn't changed that much.

"Classy, Amber." She said, imitating him smoothly. The drink burned pleasantly in her throat, and the knot of tension in her lower back relaxed just slightly.

"Yeah well, I might be a rich boy now, but I'm gonna be true to my roots." He chugged down the drink. "You should go to bed though. Those ribs aren't going to heal themselves, and you're going to be pretty damn useless to Max if you're broken to pieces. Chloe sighed.

"Yeah, sure. Just show me where to crash." Sean took her down a side hallway and pointed into a well-furnished guest room. Chloe sank down on the bed, taking another long drink. Sean rubbed his eyes, they were red rimmed from exhaustion and tears he hadn't let Chloe see. "You know, we're gonna kill him Chlo."

"I know it, Sean." Chloe muttered, bottle clenched tight in her fist. "I hella know it."

-ooo-

It was warm when Max woke. She was wrapped in several soft blankets, pillows under her head cradling her. For a long, luxurious moment she refused to open her eyes. If she didn't open them, she wouldn't have to acknowledge where she was. She'd be able to pretend she was warm and safe in her dorm, or somewhere with Chloe.

Max opened her eyes slowly. Sunlight streamed in the window, muted by white curtains. The double bed was empty, but signs of blankets and pillows on the other side told her that this hadn't been the case all night. She couldn't remember, her memory was fuzzy and her tongue seemed heavy and furry in her mouth. Had Jeff- had- Mark. If she could remember to call him Mark, he wouldn't shock her. Had Mark drugged her again? She felt disgusting, and when she moved, her body ached. Her lip trembled and she struggled not to think about it.

She sat up slowly. Her wet clothes had been removed, she was wearing a large men's undershirt and a pair of boxers. She sniffed the shirt experimentally and shuddered. How had she ever liked the smell of his cologne? She started to strip it off, then stopped herself. Her clothes were gone.

Mark was nowhere to be seen, and Max knew if she had a chance to explore the place, find a phone to call the cops or escape, now was the time. She slipped out into the hallway, quiet as a shadow, bare feet padding on the thick soft carpet, and looked around. She could hear movement in the downstairs area, and stayed close to the wall. There were locks on the other doors, and no windows but the one in the bedroom. Going back in, she struggled to slide it open to no avail. There was nothing she could do to move it. There was no phone. She covered her face and began to cry.

-ooo-

Jefferson was cooking breakfast in the kitchen, humming to himself. Ooooo oh, did the gods smile down on him today? His little muse sleeping upstairs after a night of wonders the likes of which he could never have imagined he'd experience. He's never defiled any of his subjects before- but Maxine was not a subject, she was his art made human. His muse, his student. He intended to pass everything he knew to her, make her see herself the way he saw her.

He's set up his lights in the living room of the little suburban house, dark curtains hung over the few lower windows. He wanted to capture her exactly as she was. His precious angel.

Jefferson heard a small noise behind him and whirled around to see Maxine descending into the kitchen. His shirt was slipping off her slender shoulders, hair still mussed from their night of passion. Gods how he loved her.

"Good morning, Maxine."

"Good morning Mr- G-good morning Mark." Maxine whispered. Her eyes seemed a little puffy and he went to her in concern.

"Are you alright my sweet?" She flinched away from his touch, and he felt anger flash in his veins. What did she think he'd do to her? Anything that he couldn't do to his possession? But she turned her face to look up at him, and her angelic eyes calmed him. Jefferson put his thumb on her cheek and rubbed it in small circles. She was warming to him, learning the rules. Now he just had to correct any little slipups she might have, and he'd have her perfected in no time.

"Are you hungry?" She looked down for a long minute, not replying. "Maxine," he said in a warning voice. "You will answer me when I speak to you… or there will be consequences." Maxine's head snapped up.

"I'm s-sorry!" her voice was a slight tremble that melted his heart. She was so innocent, so pathetic. She hadn't lost that spark, but the fire he was concerned about seemed to be almost entirely subdued now. It was perfect.

"So. Are you?"

Max couldn't lie, she was starving. Even trying to pass herself off as more pathetic than she was, trying to convince him she was harmless, she was still so hungry she felt faint. The smell of eggs and bacon was driving her insane.

"Y-yes please, Mark." She whimpered softly, trying to sound like a child. He clearly bought it, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to his chest. It made her want to scream and struggle, but if she did, he'd shock her again. His lips met hers in a warm, heavy kiss. His kiss was pressure against her face, and she fought the urge to vomit as her skin crawled everywhere he touched.

"You're going to have to do a little trick for your breakfast though, Maxine." He smiled, spinning her away from him. She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself from having a panic attack.

"A trick, Mark?"

He lead her by the hand to a room adjoining the kitchen that almost made her heart stop. It was like walking into a nightmare. There was a pale white screen, a stool in front of it. Stands of warm lights pointed towards it. It was a darkroom. It was his new darkroom. She shook her head, her whole body trembling. No no no… she was not getting in front of that camera. She was not playing his sick games.

"Then I'm afraid I won't be able to give you breakfast."

"P-please?"

"Absolutely not."

"Just… just one photograph?" Max felt her will and voice breaking. She had to eat if she was going to be strong enough to escape. Mark smirked down at her.

"Just one for now, Maxine. But I'm going to take as many as I need to get it perfect." Max's shoulders slumped. Mark laughed softly. "Come now… you used to love your little selfies… let me give you portraiture."

The lights burned bright in Max's eyes as Mark directed her to sit on the stool. He stood behind his tripod, humming softly in delight as he adjusted dials and lenses. Max could feel tears gathering behind her lashes and forced them back as Mark took pictures, his shutter snapping away. After a moment he stood, frowning.

"Something just isn't right about it, my sweet." He walked closer to her, grabbing her softly by the shirt as she tried to move away. "It's this. I need this off."

"W-what?! No!" The response was instant. Jefferson shocked her so hard she fell off the stool, screaming, her body twitching and writhing on the floor. He stood over her, glaring down, as she lay there panting.

"You are never to say no to me, Maxine. Now take it off, and get back in the chair." Tears streaking down her face and shaking, Max stripped off the shirt and sat down on the stool, arms crossed over her chest. He took a few pictures of her like that, crying and covering herself, then moved her hands aside to expose her, returning to take more photos. "Stop crying, Maxine. Your tears are fucking up the image!"

Max felt more alone, more alien and more like an object than she'd ever felt in her life as Jefferson finished the shoot and saved his work. She didn't move from the stool, head hung down. Chloe. Chloe was the only thing she could think about. Her beautiful, dead angel. Maybe Chloe was watching her from another world. A timeline where she hadn't fucked things up, where Jefferson hadn't this to her.

"Why the intense look?" Jefferson asked, walking over to her with her shirt. "I'm sorry for hurting you Maxine, but I did what I had to do. You understand, don't you, my sweet?" Max slipped the shirt over her head, not answering. "What're you thinking about?"

"Chloe."

"What?" His voice was deep and angry.

"Chloe." Max responded, looking up at him with the fire. There it was. The fire he'd been trying to quench, how dare it return to her eyes?!

"Well," Jefferson growled, face inches from hers, "stop thinking about her. She's dead. You're wasting your love on her. You're _mine_ now."

"I'll always love her." Max spat, her voice rising. "I'll love her for the rest of my life, Jefferson, there's nothing you can do about that, I don't care if she's dead! I love her! I loved her enough to murder thousands _and I'll love her enough to survive you!"_

Mark Jefferson considered himself a controlled man. Polite, elegant. But these words filled him with fury he could not control. He grabbed Maxine by the throat, slamming her into the wall as hard as he could and lifting, dangling the choking little thing. Furious, he threw her to the ground and kicked her several times for good measure. Maxine was sobbing, begging him to stop, but his vision was red with anger. Still loved her little punk bitch? He'd see about that.

-ooo-

Chloe woke and stretched slowly. She went to the bathroom, fished her smokes out of her pocket, and went out onto the sunny balcony to smoke. Seattle was beautiful in the morning, and she could see the clear blue waters of the Pacific a little way farther out. It was stunning, the way the light reflected off the water. She took a long drag, calming herself and thinking about Max. Where was she now? Was she safe?

After a little while, she went back inside and went to the kitchen to find Sean. They needed to talk, to form a proper plan of action. Ribs or no ribs, she had to focus on the priorities.

Sean was sitting at the counter with at least eight empty beer bottles around him. He'd stripped to shorts and his wifebeater and was typing away busily. He did not appear to have gone to bed.

"You good, man?" Chloe asked, walking to the counter and turning on the coffee maker. "You been up all night?" Sean nodded and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Chloe poured him a few minutes later.

"Chlo, I think I found him. Not his place, I dunno where that is. But Jefferson keeps a work related blog, you know? There's an event at the end of the week he planned to attend. It's something related to his photography. He's already sent an email to his publisher, who put out a public statement saying he survived the storm. Though he says he left the night before for a personal emergency and was 'lucky.'

Chloe sat down besides him, listening. "So we don't know where he is-"

"-But, we know where he's going to be." Sean finished, grinning. "We're gonna get your girl back."

A slow grin spread over the girl's face as she took a long drink of her coffee. "Damn right we are."


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey guys, sorry the chapter is a little later than I'd intended it to be. I'm homeless again, couchsurfing with a friend, and everything is just a little crazy while I try and get everything figured out. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and if you do, please consider leaving a review? When I'm depressed/feel like I'm a bad writer/feel like I shouldn't keep going, your kind comments give me the strength to write more. I'm really glad you all like it so far, and I encourage you to share it around with friends. I'd LOVE to see fan art, especially with Chloe's new look (this chapter, but I tease) but I doubt that'll ever happen. If you happen to do art though, it would make my YEAR to see some._

 _Anyway, please enjoy! -Ocean_

-ooo-

"Can't lose your calm now, shit face…" Chloe said, looking at herself in the mirror. "Not now when Max needs you. Max needs you. Beat your punk ass up later." She'd been talking herself up all morning, giving Sean space after his boyfriend got home. She needed to clear her head. She missed weed, but she didn't want anything messing with her ability to think clearly. Chloe joined Sean and Richard in the kitchen. Richard was drinking from a glass of red wine with a long, thin stem, and Sean was chopping vegetables angrily and throwing them into a pan.

"I'm trying to explain to you, Richard, that there is no evidence!"

"I understand baby, but this is…" Richard took a long drink of his wine and looked fondly at his partner. "This is just kind of…"

"If I go to the cops and try to tell them that a celeb photographer- most of them won't even know him, they probably don't follow high art photography- who is also an Arcadia Bay survivor is the man who murdered my sister on the word of Chlo, who," he glanced up at her, "no offence Chlo but has a record-"

"None taken," Chloe helped herself to bacon and opened her phone. She wanted to go over the information about the gala again.

"The point is, the cops won't believe us, Richard. She was my sister, I'm going to do this myself or so help me I'll-" Richard cut him off with a kiss.

"I get it, Sean. You're passionate. That's okay. But please, don't do anything stupid, or worse than getting the evidence you need to get the cops involved. I love that small town 'I'll do it myself' charm of yours, but I don't need you going to jail."

Chloe spent the day getting ready, though it was a rather frustrating day. First, she had to cover up her tattoos, which she wasn't too bothered with until Sean walked in with a tube of concealer and told her to lather up. Being coated wrist to neck in flesh colored makeup was enough to make anyone uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Sean said she'd need to dye her hair too. Well, that was fine. She'd wanted to try out purple or maybe green- Sean shot that down too.

"Too noticeable, it sticks out. You need brown or black." He told her. "Plus Jefferson knows what you look like. Besides, you'll stick out like a sore thumb in that crowd."

"Why not blonde?" She wasn't keen on the idea, at all, but if there was one instinct she had, it was to be contrary and argumentative.

"Because when a blonde walks into a room, everyone looks at her for a few seconds." He replied.

"It's true." Richard added, as he ran his fingers through Sean's blonde hair. "Nobody can resist checking out a blonde." Chloe made gagging sounds.

"Jeez, get a room you two."

With that matter settled, and 'I listen to Panic! At the Disco all day' being the hair dye she was able to obtain from the corner store, she had to pick out something to wear. She had hoped maybe a dress shirt, some black slacks, a tasteful tie- much to her dismay, she was again vetoed.

"Sorry, Chlo. It's got to be a dress." Sean shook his head. "You're going as my date, after all."

"Only because I'm letting her!" Richard called from the other room, walking in with a soft laugh. "Chloe, first, this is the kind of venue where women are competing to show off whatever's expensive and runway. It's got to be coture, or at least designer. Second, nobody is going to believe that-" He made a gesture to her, running his hand up and down before her "managed to land this-" He did the same before Sean, though, making physical contact this time. "In anything that couldn't snap a runway model's neck from 60 feet."

"I can borrow something from work!" Sean chimed in. Chloe was growing accustomed to his constant comments, and to the constant desire to shove them up his ass. Her temples ached. None of this was helping Max.

"Why? Why a dress? Maybe a woman's suit instead?" She asked in a hopeful tone, her eyes showing clear discomfort.

Richard cleared his throat. "No girl in her right mind is going to this gala in anything other than an evening gown, Chloe. Especially not a girl," He cleared his throat and moved in front of her, turning her to face a mirror so she was forced to look at herself. She had to admit, without the tattoos showing and with the black hair she did look… older. Less defiant. Classy almost. Almost. "Who's trying to look like a woman that belongs."

"Dammit. Fine." She sighed. It made sense, but she still prefered the idea she'd had- waiting in a car and shooting him when he came out. "But I don't even own a dress. I haven't worn one since…" since William's funeral, "In a fuck of a long time."

Sean smirked. "Honey. Oh sweet baby. Honey child darling innocent gay little-"

"What my darling partner means to say," Richard cut off Sean's tirade, "is that he works in circles where getting you the right dress shouldn't be too hard."

Only a few days left until the Gala, and Chloe was ready to get Max back.

-ooo-

"Good morning Maxine."

She woke slowly, blearily. Her body ached slightly. She was still lying in his bed, where he'd left her when he finished with her the night before. Maxine sat up slowly.

"Good morning Mark."

"Are you going to make me breakfast this morning, sweetheart?" Maxine rubbed her eyes slowly. Breakfast. What was breakfast? Oh, right. Food. She couldn't remember feeling hungry. Mark wanted her to make food though. She wished she could poison it.

"Yes Mark." Maxine yawned, wiping her eyes clean and stumbled to the bathroom. Mark had _graciously_ gone out and gotten her a toothbrush so she could take care of her morning necessities. She knocked over the toothpaste and a bit of it smeared along the sink.

"Great..." she sighed, rubbing her ribs where they hurt from being kicked. He wouldn't like it if she made a mess. She reached for a cloth. "I'll have to clean this before he sees…"

Maxine blinked for a moment, as she absentmindedly stared at the paste. It was... _interesting_. It managed to spray out in a way that caught her eye. The lighting in the room was pretty good…

If only she still had her camera.

Oh well.

She sighed and wiped it up.

As she came down the stairs, Mark was already there, lounging at the table. He was reading a photography magazine. She was pretty sure she'd seen him on the cover of that one before. She remembered that she thought he was so amazing.

"Maxine, did you sleep well?" He asked in his soft and deadly way. He smiled broadly at her as she nodded.

"I...yes." She stretched her neck "What would you like for breakfast?"

"You tell me. I cooked for you yesterday, and the day before… surprise me, my sweet." Of course he wanted her to cook now. She wasn't doing it. That was just- she caught a glimpse of her collar's light reflecting off of the window and bit her lip.

"O-Of course." Maxine wandered over to the fridge, "What do you prefer, eggs or pancakes?"

"I think you know the answer to that Maxine. I believe I was asked my favorite breakfast in _Flash!_ Magazine?" Max had read the issue, specifically because it was about him. Funny. Maxine remembered that Max used to think the world of him…

"June 2011. You said your favorite was eggs. Preferably over-easy, since you thought it was more picturesque." Mark stood up and walked over to her, she fought an instinct to flinch as his arms wrapped around her.

"You're absolutely right, Maxine. I should quiz you sometime." He smiled and gave her a kiss. She choked down the urge to vomit and grabbed a few eggs out of the fridge.

She waited until during breakfast to ask. He seemed to be enjoying it. She saw him smiling a lot as he ate. He asked a few questions about things he'd said in past interviews, and they were things she'd all been able to answer correctly. After all, she'd used to devour every article that had his name in it.

"Mark?" She spoke up hesitantly, her voice trembling slightly. He moved and she flinched a little. She didn't want to be hit again.

"Yes, Maxine? Is something on your mind?"

"I...I was wondering if I might-" She bit her lip

"You're not going out." He stood up as though finished with the conversation.

"No! I was wondering if I could have a camera."

"A...camera?" He seemed to freeze for a moment, in consideration.

"Well, it's just. I see things sometimes I'd like to photograph. Like in class when you'd mentioned that photographs are like 'little moments of time.' I miss being able to capture those moments."

On the one hand, giving her something like a camera might give her back the feeling of being free, and remind her of life when she was her own person, separate from him, and the very thought made him furious. On the other… well, there was a reason that she'd been his favorite student besides her looks and innocence.

He remembered every photo she ever turned in for an assignment, and even making some extra assignments up off-syllabus to see what she would turn in. He'd wished he could see what she would have turned in for the _Heroes_ contest. It was a terrible idea, but one that he just couldn't resist. He had wanted someone to teach again, after all. His little muse could be that opportunity.

"I'll see what I can get you, Maxine" He sighed. This was probably a bad idea, but he did miss her photos. "But you'll need to be on your best behavior if you want to keep it."

"Alright!" Maxine's eyes widened. She'd been certain he'd say no, or shock her. But this was wonderful!

"You'll need to show me any photos you take, of course." She nodded. She could do that.

"Of course." She'd anticipated that, at least.

"One more catch. I need you to do something for me." Maxine shivered, the last time she'd had to brush her teeth and wash her mouth out, but if it meant a camera…even the slightest feeling of that freedom would be incredible…

"I'm going to need to buy you a dress… you're going to go on a very exciting date with me, Maxine Jefferson."


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey everyone! Sorry for the long delay between the chapters this time, I know this one's almost a week late. In my defense, last week was spring break, and I was traveling to visit a friend for the vast majority of the time. I think this chapter will make up for the wait though- it's an exciting one!_

 _I really, really from the bottom of my heart want to think you all for the huge outpouring of reviews on the last chapter. With the circumstances I'm in, sometimes writing doesn't feel very rewarding, and I let myself forget that I need to tell stories as much as the people I tell them for want to read them. There was one review in particular, "We, your loving fans, wait in anticipation" that just blew my mind. I actually sat down and cried when it came in, and I think I took a screenshot and digital sticky note pinned it to my desktop. You guys are the greatest fans any fanfic author could ask for, and I love each and every one of you._

 _So, on to the chapter! I hope you guys love reading it as much as I loved writing it. Get rekt everyone's emotions!_

 _TW implied rape, implied abuse, drinking._

-ooo-

The dress was tight and uncomfortable, and it itched in all kinds of places. Chloe groaned in annoyance as Sean did up another strap, pulling, tightening more.

"You know, I'm beginning to think that it would be better if I just-"

"Shut up, Chlo. I'm almost done."

Chloe swore under her breath in frustration, angrily shoving the short now-black locks out of her eyes. It was stiff with some kind of product Sean had run through it, making it sleek and sculpted, held in place with glittery clips that looked like flowers or some other ridiculous shit. When Nathan had abused her, when Max had been taken, when Rachel had died, she'd felt anger like she'd never known before. A furious ball of fire in her chest. This though? This didn't feel like much of a plan.

"When I said I'd go to any lengths to get Max back, I hella didn't think it would be in some stupid prom dress."

"This isn't prom, Chloe. This is adults in fancy clothes pretending that the monarchy is still a thing and they're the noble upper crust."

Chloe sighed and looked in the mirror. There was, of course, no denying that the dress looked good. Sean had taste. The dress was in two parts, the lower half a sleek, dark gown that hugged her chest and hips and fell in soft folds around her ankles. Over that was a sheer dress of black lace, embroidered with bronze trim. A slender black belt that Sean had been pulling and prodding wrapped around Chloe's tiny waist. She looked like a woman, with curves and lines, instead of a punk boy trying to fuck the world.

" _Thank_ you Sean." Sean joked, his tone light and teasing, but with a slight edge of stress that hadn't gone away since they'd met. "Now I won't look like joke at the party, who gets thrown out after about twenty minutes!

She flexed her fist slightly, smirking at the mirror. "Alright, yeah, you did good Sean." She turned to look at him. He was wearing a slender and properly tailored tux, open at the neck and without a tie. He looked like he belonged in the classy living room, the view of the city lights twinkling outside. He looked like he belonged in the kind of society that would be attending this party.

-ooo-

Maxine stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, so disassociated from herself that she could not remember any part of who she was. What would Chloe think, if she could see her now? It didn't matter, of course. Chloe was dead. It was a truth Maxine reminded herself of as often as she could over the last week of beatings and shocks and… and other things. She held her camera in shaking hands. If she took a photograph, if she took a selfie- would it show who she really was?

 _Flash_. The light blinded her for a second, her eyes watering behind the contacts. The photo was scrolling out of the bottom of the camera. He had kept his word, gotten her exactly the one she wanted.

The photograph was of a stranger, and Maxine felt her stomach drop in dismay, reality like a stone around her neck that dragged her down as she sank to the bathroom floor in her underwear, sobbing quietly. Looking back at her from the photo was a different girl. A girl with long, blonde hair that curled and bounced around her shoulders, extensions and dye blended together so well that it looked like beautiful layers. Large, dark eyes- so different from the old girl- Max's- pale blue ones, peeked out from under long lashes. Even her brown eyebrows had been bleached to match the tones of her hair. The girl in the photo was gorgeous, a bombshell. She was unrecognizable as anyone that had ever been seen before. If anyone had been left, deep inside, clinging to the idea that maybe she could be saved, that person was gone now. There was only Maxine Jefferson left, graceful and beautiful. Only the sadness of the face and the clear, dark line of the shock collar remained.

Mark banged his fist on the door, startling Maxine out of her trance. She jumped up off the floor, hurriedly rubbing the tears from her eyes. Mark swung the door open, letting himself in. His face lit up when he saw her, and she forced herself to smile.

"You look stunning, my sweet." He murmured happily, taking her chin into his hand and tilting her face back and forth to observe it at every angle. "I've got to get some photos of you later, of course. But for now, let's get you dressed."

The dress was black. It clung to Maxine's scant curves, bringing them out, making them more. Sparkles of shining silver were sprinkled across the chest and strap sleeves, crystals that caught the light when she moved. Mark twisted her hair up, pinning more crystals into it, letting a few blonde curls dangle and frame the stranger's face that looked back at her. He did her makeup, something he'd picked up working in this industry, giving her subtle smokey eyes and long dark lashes, keeping her lips and cheeks pale. She looked like a goddess when he finished.

More importantly, at this highly publicised and photographed event, she looked nothing like one of the students who had died in the Arcadia Bay tragedy. Though he disliked the use of such tricks and fucking up his little angel with artificial beauty, he was pleased with the effect that it had brought to Maxine. A silk scarf, custom made with Swarovski crystals, wrapped gingerly around her neck to hide the shock collar from view. Mark longed to take it off her, to know that she belonged to him both in body and in soul, but he also knew that it was Maxine's first real excursion into the world, and it would be a major test of the effectiveness of his conditioning. He didn't want to risk it.

"You're going to be on your best behavior, right Maxine?" He spoke gently, trying to keep the emotions in his voice under control as he used makeup to hide any traces of bruises left on her pale skin. It frustrated him how easily she bruised, because she knew he never meant to hurt her. She was like one of those rare ghost apples that darkened at the least pressure, too delicate to understand his love.

"Y-Yes Mark." Her voice was a little shaken, but confidant in it's own way.

"Because a lot of my colleagues are going to be there and I don't want you to embarrass me. If you did, I'd have to be very angry with you." Maxine flinched a little, and he held himself in check. Not now. He wouldn't be angry now before the party.

"Yes Mark."

"Excellent. Let's go, then."

-ooo-

There were lines of cars leading up to the museum. Chloe sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Sean's car as he guided it to the parking deck. She was bouncing her knee restlessly under the lace of her dress.

"You're sure he's going to be there?"

"Yes, Chlo. He tweeted about it several times, and his publicist's website says some of his work will be up for the auction, so there's no way he isn't going." Sean sounded focused. Chloe took a shaking breath. Then she voiced a fear in the pit of her stomach.

"You don't think he already killed her, do you?" Sean said nothing, guiding the car up the orange lit, echoing cement interior of the deck. The strange light threw his grim face into livid relief. Chloe felt her insides twist at his lack of an answer. "Well? Fucking answer me, you prick!"

"Chloe, we've got to go in and-"

"You don't do you!? You think she's fucking dead!"

Sean turned to face her, slamming the car into park so that it shuddered slightly as it settled in the spot. "It doesn't fucking matter what I think. There's no use in speculating about this. Either she's alive, or she's not, and the only goddamn way we're going to find out is if we can follow Jefferson."

Chloe opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it, and closed it with an angry grit of her teeth.

The sweet sounds of classical music, heels and clinking champagne glasses greeted Chloe's ears as she entered the event on Sean's arm. A greeter welcomed them and handed them both glasses. It was bubbly and tasted like fruit acid, so Chloe held onto it for looks and drank none.

The patrons were dancing, chattering by the buffet table, sitting at tables, wandering the gallery of photos or looking at the art that was up for auction. Richard had been right, this place was way beyond what she was used to, and Sean had been right- this was no prom. She had never seen this many older women in dresses taking themselves this seriously in one place before.

Sean excused himself from her and went over to talk to a group of lovely girls Chloe could only assume were models that worked with him. They nodded, chattering and pointing, towards the auction photographs.

She could see him. Mark Jefferson rounded the corner of the mezzanine, speaking with a group of other men in suits. On his arm was a pretty blonde girl Chloe didn't know. She slipped closer, sipping at her drink and pretending to look at the art for sale. Her eyes were so glazed over as she eavesdropped that she couldn't see a word of what she was looking at.

"Yes, it was horrible. I'm still in shock, really. All those students, just, snuffed out." Jefferson was talking to his colleagues. "As a teacher it really breaks my heart to know that they're gone."

Chloe clenched her fists silently. _Sure it does fucker._

The blonde woman besides Jefferson stretched slightly, rolling her head to the left and cocking her elbows back. Chloe froze. She knew that stretch. She'd seen that stretch before, a dozen times over. It… it couldn't be.

 _Oh my god. Oh my god. It's... Max._

-ooo-

Maxine sighed, listening to Mark's endless drone about the tornado, about his work, his upcoming shoots. Once he referenced her, and she smiled on cue, but nothing else. Nothing was required of her. Quietly, she drained her glass of champagne.

Suddenly, she felt a blow to the back of her arm, and a gasp. Her glass flew out of her hand, and so did another. They both shattered. People turned and looked, and Maxine drew back quickly, but not fast enough to avoid some spill.

"I'm so sorry!" Said a girl's voice, in a soft accent. It sounded familiar, as she turned towards the girl, however, the girl looked away. Mark drew himself up in anger, but the girl had taken her arm and was pulling her away. "Come here, let me clean you up."

"Now wait just a minute!" Jefferson began, spluttering. Maxine looked up quickly, not wanting to make a scene as the girl pulled her away.

"I'll just be a moment, Mark!" She called, seeing they were headed for the ladies room. "Just let me freshen up." A service worker had already come running over, putting two fresh glasses in each of Jefferson's outstretched hands and sweeping up the glass. He seemed mollified, if only for a moment.

The girl with black hair pulled Maxine into the ladies room. Maxine stumbled over her words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you come up behind me and I'm clumsy sometimes though I'm sure Mark won't-"

The bathroom door closed and the girl looked up. A shock went through Maxine, like a line of electricity ripping through her stomach. She was staring at a ghost. Oh god, was she hallucinating again? Not now, not here. Jef- Mark- Jefferson- he'd kill her if he knew she was seeing Chloe again. She stared at the girl who looked like Chloe but could not be Chloe because Chloe had died. Chloe had been crushed by a car, Ma- Jef- Mark had said so. He'd forced her to say it again and again.

"Max," Chloe whispered, taking Maxine's hands in her own. "It's me! It's Chloe!"

"N-no…" Maxine's voice was trembling. "No no no, not again… not here, it's not you, you're not real…"

Chloe stared at Max in horror. Max was dolled up. Her eyes were all wrong, contacts that were red around the edges from tears. She was drenched in makeup and perfume. Her hair, usually soft and framing her face, had been bleached and sprayed and crimped into artificial perfection. She was pale under the powder, pale to the roots of her white blonde hair.

"Max, I swear, it's me, I'm here with Sean, Rachel's brother. We're going to get you away from Jefferson."

 _"No!"_ Max shouted, clamping both her hands over her ears, her voice rising. Chloe's heart started to crash in her chest. If Jefferson heard Max screaming, he'd flip out and they might not get away with her. _"You're not real! You aren't! **I know you aren't!"**_ Max's voice was becoming feverish, wavering, high pitched and carrying. She started to struggle at Chloe's grip, trying to get free. Chloe clenched her tighter, grabbing Max's forearms and trying to hold her in place.

Max started screaming, fighting and kicking at Chloe. Chloe, eyes wide and terrified by the manic reaction of the girl she loved, was at a complete loss, just trying to hold Max still and shout over the screaming. There were footsteps. People were shouting, running. Max was screaming, beating her fists against Chloe's chest.

There was nothing to be done.

Chloe ran for it, leaving Max and sprinting out of the bathroom just as a group of guards and concerned guests were running towards it. Someone yelled for her to stop but she ignored it, still hearing Max's tortured screams coming from the bathroom, muffled now by the door and tiles. Chloe tore across the mezzanine, sprinting for the exits, and had burst into the cool night air of downtown Seattle before anyone could stop her. She stopped long enough to jerk her heeled shoes off, then ran to Sean's car. It was locked.

Chloe slid down the side of the car, gasping, until she was sitting on the concrete by the passengers side door. Tears overtook her. Max. Her sweet Max. What had they done to her girlfriend?

-ooo-

Jefferson furiously took the crying Maxine into his arms. She curled into them instantly, crying against his chest. She was too hysterical to explain what had happened. He rounded on the sheepish security guard.

"Care to explain?" He spat furiously.

"Well, uh, best we can tell sir, somebody tried to rob her in the bathroom. I'm so sorry. I thought we'd screened everyone who came but clearly there were some party crashers."

He glared at them, considering calling to the museum to complain and get them fired. Instead he wiped away Maxine's tears, fixing her makeup and leading her back towards the guests. They moved closer to her, some hugging her, men expressing anger and women concern over the event. Jefferson cleared his throat. He knew he'd intended to do this tonight, and now was as good at time as ever. His angel needed to be his, publically, legally and forever. In front of the assembled guests and photographers, Jefferson dropped to one knee in front of Maxine.

"Maxine, I couldn't keep you safe tonight, and that's my fault. I tried, and I failed you. But I want to keep you safe forever. I want you to be mine. Maxine, darling, please. Make me the happiest man in the world. Will you marry me?"


	9. Chapter 9

_Hey everyone! So glad you're sticking with the fic! That last chapter was a bit of a roller coaster and man this story is SO fun to write. As always, if you enjoy this chapter please leave a review, the feedback is awesome. You guys are the most amazing group of fans a ficwriter could ask for._

 _So, on a personal note I will be beginning another fanfic fairly soon. I don't know how many of you are gaming nerds, but I will be writing a fic for The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. I'm super excited, and if you think that's up your street, check my writings often/author follow me!_

 _Now, onto the chapter- trigger warning for drinking, drug use and suicide attempt. Love you all._

 _-Dia_

-ooo-

Was anything worth it, really? Chloe didn't really think so, not anymore. She sat on her balcony seat, halfway through a bottle of Captain Morgan's. Her eyes were half glazed over. No amount of weed, and she'd smoked a lot, or alcohol, and she'd drunk a lot, seemed to be able to make the angry pain go away. It was as bad as when Rachel had vanished. No, it was worse. It was worse because at least with Rachel she'd had hope that something was going to change. With this… nothing.

Chloe wandered down the stairs, ignoring the open door to Sean's room. He'd tried to talk to her a few times about what happened, but she'd brushed it off and ignored him. She took another biting draft from the bottle, choking back the bitter liquid. It was visceral, the burning down her throat and in her stomach, the way that the world seemed to exist just a second out of sync, everything lagging just slightly and allowing her to deny the existence of reality.

Max hadn't wanted her. Max hadn't wanted to come with her, she'd chosen her captor, Jefferson. Or was he even her captor? Had reality played some massive joke on her, and Max had spared Jefferson for a reason? Had it all been a game?

But if it had been, why had Max spared her? She could have gone back, let Chloe be killed, and gone happily to live with Jefferson with nothing preventing her from being his prize little blonde bimbo. Chloe forcibly wiped away angry tears and took another long drink.

Someone was going to stop her from drinking and walking if she didn't do something about it. Sighing, she pushed her way into the coffee shop at the bottom of the building, tucking the rum int her bag. It was mostly empty, a few people clicking away on apple computers and a barista with curly hair cleaning something behind the counter.

Chloe walked up to the front, hoping she didn't smell like a distillery. The barista looked up, glanced her up and down, and grinned, walking over.

"What can I get you love?" She asked, grabbing a cup and pen.

"Uh…" Chloe'a voice faltered as she struggled to read the curly letters on the chalkboard menu. "I just want a large coffee." Her voice was low and raw from crying and drinking.

"You alright?" The barista asked, "What's your name?"

"Chloe. And I'm fine. Just need to be distracted." It was Max's fault. Jefferson's fault. It was anybody's fault but hers. If she believed it was her fault, if she let herself think about it too closely, she was going to go insane, fly apart into a thousand pieces and scatter to the wind. Why did the damn barista keep looking at her? She was attractive, that was fair. Curly brown hair, big eyes, perky smile. Sprinkle of freckles across the new. She wore a fitted shirt and ripped jeans.

"What's on your mind?" She asked, pouring the cup. "Also, do you want some cream?"

"I, uh, no. No cream." Name tag said Lola. Cute name. Max would have liked- no. Chloe wasn't going to think about Max. "And I uh, lost my girlfriend."

"Lost?" Lola raised her eyebrow, moving with smooth confidence as she pushed the coffee forwards. "You mean, broke up?"

"I mean…" Chloe struggled to think, the liquor fogging her mind. "In a matter of speaking."

"Is that why you're so drunk?" Lola leaned on the bar, putting her head on her hand and smirking at Chloe. She leaned on the bar too, trying to play it cool.

"Mmm, drunk? I'm like, not even drunk." Chloe managed, stumbling slightly against the bar.

"Please, love. You smell like you've had the entire bottle."

"Not the entire bottle," Chloe muttered. Lola laughed.

"Look, you want to forget her? I get off in fifteen minutes. Let's go for a stroll, yeah?" Chloe smirked. Somewhere in her gut, a guilty feeling twinged. Max. Max was Jefferson's captive somewhere, so twisted around his finger that she couldn't recognize her own love. She shuddered, shoving the guilt aside. If Max didn't want her, what did it matter? She was too drunk to care.

"Yeah," Chloe grinned, "I'd like that."

-ooo-

Maxine sat quietly in the back of Mark's studio hotel room, where they'd been staying downtown in the city, sorting through the pile of his printed photographs and trying not to look at the ring. It was a large ring. Diamonds sparkled from a dozen different chips, including the largest stone in the center. The band was bright yellow gold. It was gaudy and expensive and everything that Maxine felt was nothing like her.

She sighed quietly. The hallucinations must be aftershocks of her power. That was the only way Chloe could have been there where she needed her the most. But Mark had taken her home, taken her into his arms and bed, and let her explain everything. He'd told her the woman wasn't Chloe, who was dead (Mark had showed her the records to prove his point) but just a petty thief who had broken into the party. Then he'd been angry. Maxine shuddered softly. He'd been angry that she questioned, that she insisted Chloe had been there.

She touched the bruise on the side of her face, bare shoulders coming together under the too big tank top. She lifted her shirt and looked down at her own stomach. She'd lost weight, looked almost skeletal, bruises along her ribs and skin pale. Maybe she had become a ghost, and she would melt into the world she'd glimpsed in the depths of her hallucinations. A place of candles and swirling darkness and never ending blame. It was her fault that all of this had happened and now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't touch her powers.

Maxine was bleeding. Her nose was bleeding and she reached up and touched it with her fingers in surprise and horror, moving quickly so it dripped on her shirt and not on Mark's precious photographs. She ran to the bathroom, pinching her nose and trying to stem the flow. Red blotches were spreading across the white shirt. She got to the bathroom and blotted her nose with a tissue, blood splattering across the sink.

There was music in her head and she couldn't tell where it was coming from. She looked around, ignoring the blood flowing down her face, over her lips and dripping down her chin. She wandered into the hotel hallway, the music drowning out her thoughts. Where was Mark? Was he still out with his friends in the lobby, talking? She would have to ask him if he could hear the music when he got back.

There was light coming from the suite kitchen. Maxine slowly walked closer, eyes unfocused. There was a shape made of light, wandering through the kitchen. A soft shape on all fours, pouring light into the room. A familiar shape.

A deer, a doe of soft blue and white light, partially transparent, stepped into Maxine's line of vision. She froze, staring at it, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. It stared forlornly back at her. Maxine's stomach dropped. The deer understood her pain, her captivity. The deer understood her hopelessness.

"You're here…" She whispered softly to it, stepping closer. It didn't move as she reached her fingers out towards it's shining flank. Her fingers brushed something warm, light, intangible but somehow electric. She shivered. "Are you here to take me away?"

The deer turned and started walking away from her, towards the window. Maxine followed without question, tissue falling from her fingers unnoticed, blood flowing freely from her face. The deer passed through the glass balcony door without even a rustle of the curtains. Maxine gripped the door, and slid it open.

She was assaulted instantly by the chilly air, the darkness and the rush of sound when the door opened. The city was so loud at night, it was almost startling. There were bright lights and rushing noises on all sides. The sky was a sick orange, overcast and with light pollution from the city filling every billow and wave.

The deer stood patiently at the banister, watching her. Maxine hesitated a moment, and then moved towards it, crossing the tiled space. Her shorts blew around her waist, her blonde hair snapped around her face in the gusting rushes of wind from the ocean. She joined the deer, staring out over the city, hands pressed flat to the concrete lip if the railing. It leaned over, nuzzling her cheek slightly.

"You're not hear to give me my powers back, are you?" She asked, sadly. The deer said nothing, watching her with those ghostly eyes. Eyes that had seen the horror of the world. She knew the truth.

"It's the only way I'm going to be free, isn't it?" She didn't need the answer. With an effort, she pulled herself up onto the lip of the balcony, staring down over the city. Her upstretched fingers were barely brushing the ceiling of the space. The lights and sounds of the city were spread out far below her, welcoming her with their beckoning twinkle of freedom. She could go. She would go. She would be with Chloe.

"….Maxine? What are you doing?" Mark's voice cut through the passive watching of her head. Max turned to look at him. Maxine, who was Maxine? She wasn't Maxine. She was Max. And he was Jefferson, not some romantic, not some hero, and not her husband.

"Don't come any closer to me…" She said, struggling to get the words out. He was standing in the doorway to the balcony, eyes wide behind his glasses, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the door, staring at her in horror. "Don't come any closer, I'll jump."

Ironic to be on this side of such a situation. Not even a month ago she'd stood on the other side, where Jefferson stood, begging Kate to come down. But she understood now. She understood completely. How much she longed to throw herself off that balcony to the wonderful world far below. She'd be free of him and his corruptive influence for the rest of her life, even if it lasted only a few short, sweet seconds.

"You don't want to do that, Maxine, surely…" Jefferson whispered, stepping slowly closer to her.

"Maxine isn't my name…" She whispered slowly. "Maxine isn't my name, and I swear, I saw her. She was alive." The deer was gone, but she could still feel it's warm, comforting presence. She knew it was there, she knew it would love her and take care of her. It would get her back to Chloe. Chloe who, despite Jefferson's insistence, was alive. Max KNEW she was alive.

Jefferson shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortably. Max took a shuffling step, moving closer to the edge, and he jolted forwards. "NO! Fine.. fine, Max. Your name is Max, now please… come down from that edge…"

"I don't want to come down," she whispered slowly. "You're just going to hurt me again if I come down."

"I love you Maxi- Max. I won't hurt you, I'll never hurt you."

"You're a LIAR." Max's voice raised, warbling softly. "You're a liar. You'll hurt me, and you'll keep me from seeing Chloe."

"Chloe is DEAD!"

 _"SHE ISN'T!"_ Max screamed. "You're lying! You always lie, you've lied about everything since the moment we met! Well, I don't believe you!" Jefferson took a step closer and Max put one foot backwards, letting herself feel the space of nothing under her foot. He stopped, hands spread.

"Max, if you go over that ledge, neither of us wins, you know." He murmured, staring up at her. "If you die, I lose my true love… and if you die, you lose yours. How can you see Chloe again if you're dead?"

It felt like a bell, clanging in Max's chest. He admitted it. It came out of his mouth. His own goddamn mouth, that mouth that had kissed her and spoken and screamed. It had come out of his mouth and now he could never take it back.

"Sh..she's alive, you promise?"

"I don't know where she is, Max, but if you come down from there, we'll go find her. Together." Max hesitated for a long second. Fear was beginning to set in. She was so cold and it was so high up. And he said he would take her to see Chloe. He was using her name, her true, real name. She didn't want to die so badly anymore. She didn't stop him as he approached and took her tiny, freezing, shaking body into his arms. He carried her inside without another word. There was nothing more to say. Outside on the balcony, though, Max could see the glowing doe until he carried her out of sight.

-ooo-

Chloe jerked upright, soaked to the skin with sweat. Max, oh god, Max. Max had tried to kill herself. Chloe had the most vivid dream she could ever remember. Max standing on the ledge of a balcony, a moment from jumping. Was she dead? Was she dead this minute?! No, Chloe felt sure she'd know. She ripped the blankets off and got out of bed, splashing water on her face. She wasn't making this up, and the hangover told her she wasn't drunk anymore. She swirled water in her mouth and spat into the sink.

What had she let herself do, ignoring the fact that Max was in danger, letting herself get caught up in her own woes? It was exactly this inactivity that had invited David in, that had led to Rachel's disappearance. Chloe went back into the bedroom, glancing at the sleeping form of the barista, Lola, in self-disgust as she yanked on her jeans. Why had she been so stupid and let herself get carried away?

Chloe left the apartment without waking her fling. She was moving fast and with purpose, because in her mind, a plan was forming. A plan that would force Jefferson into the open, force him to bring Max with him. And if she could manage that… well, it didn't matter how he'd twisted her, Chloe knew if she just had the time she could get the real Max out. Even if it was against her will. She grinned as she rounded the corner past the flowers that decorated the apartment exterior. Even at night, the last few of the summer's bugs were fluttering around the lights. A bright blue butterfly in particular caught her eye and attention for just a moment as it flittered past her and then away into the black.

She was getting Max back, and this time, she would not let herself get distracted.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hey guys! It's Dia!_

 _I am SO SO SO sorry that this update is late. Those of you who have been regularly following my story know that I was homeless for a period of time immediately following when I started writing Obsessed back in November. I am delighted to announce that I've finally moved into a new home with my girlfriend and a few other great friends. Thank you guys for giving me the love and support you have as followers of Obsessed._

 _On to the meat of the story! Only three more chapters left, can you believe it? And even though this one is short, the next few are gonna b y. After all, so much to resolve! As always, please leave a review if you like the work, it makes my life so much better when I get them. You're all amazing humans!_

 _Chapter TW: Mention of suicide attempt, needles, mention of physical abuse._

 _Love you guys!_

 _-Dia_

 _P.S. If you noticed that I used to go by Ocean and switched to Dia now, that's because I've been 'fiddling around' with my writer's name/identity, and finally settled on the name I want. Still the same person though!_

-ooo-

"Everyday heroes, that was his big student selling point, right?" Chloe sat with papers strewn all around her, lanky legs crossed with the laptop perched on top. Sean sat across from her, hair on end from having run his hand through it so many times as he scanned over a magazine. The cover bore Jefferson's work.

"I don't know, Chlo. That was a student contest, and he had a direct line in, what with Blackwell and everything."

"Yeah but think about it like this." Chloe pushed herself upright, back against the couch legs, and took on a mockingly studious air. "I'm Mark Jefferson. My work is the greatest thing the human eye has ever beheld. If you're lucky, I'll let you kiss my-" She trailed off as Sean laughed uproariously. Hand on her chest, she looked at him with large eyes and mock offense. "Do you take me for sarcastic, sir?"

His laughter faded to a bemused smile. "What's your point, Price?"

"He's a competition junkie. If that model friend of yours is right and he plans to," Chloe shuddered, "marry Max, he's going to want her to be competitive too. You should have seen how much he pushed her to be in that stupid friggin contest. It was all he talked about with her." Her voice had bittered over the course of speaking, and she sighed and looked away.

Sean nodded, finger running down a table in the magazine. "You think he'll want her to enter more rookie contests?"

"For sure. Or at least gallery stuff. It would probably be something he posted on his blog too." She typed the address smoothly. It was in her recent history, she'd poured over it with almost fangirl intensity.

There was a new post. Chloe paused for a moment, eyes wide, fingers over her mouth. There she was. Max, in a summer dress, with long blonde hair and big eyes that were the wrong color. The caption read that the happy couple, Maxine Elizabeth and Mark Jefferson, soon to be married, would be leaving the country for a destination wedding in Fiji. Max had her eyes downcast, hair blowing innocently in her face, camera clasped between her hands. Mark was behind her, arms wrapped around her waist and kissing her cheek. They looked happy, though Max looked more than a little vacant. She was wearing a pretty silk scarf tied around her neck, but Chloe could see the tiniest bit of a black band under it. The same black band that she'd been wearing at the museum.

"Son of a bitch," she growled, skimming down the long, gushing post. It disgusted her in the depths of her stomach. He was getting away with it, getting away with everything he wanted. She was NOT going to let that happen.

"There." Sean pointed to the bottom paragraph of the post, he'd shifted to be sitting behind her, reading over the shoulder. "….Maxine Elizabeth, also a photographer, will be displaying her work at the Kurt Lewin Gestalt art gallery during the upcoming 'Stolen Moment' photography challenge."

"Search that. Can we get into that? Is there another party?"

"That'll go about as well as last time, Chloe."

"Shut up." Chloe snapped, forehead in her hands as she thought furiously. How could she work her plan into this contest? She just needed to get close enough to pass Max the pieces. They were tucked in her pocket, as they had been since Max had torn them in half. Surely, if anything, that would prove to Max that it was Chloe, not a hallucination.

"We're going to enter the contest." Chloe said firmly.

"Sure, Chlo, and I suppose you'll be taking photos good enough to get us in the door?" Sean rubbed the stubble on his chin in frustration.

"Nope." Chloe grinned widely, "But I do have access to Max's online private photo albums."

-ooo-

"Gentle with it, Maxine." Mark's voice was smooth and lulling, as it had been for days. Maxine sat on the couch, quiet. She hadn't spoken much since that night at the window, but hadn't fought against him again. The windows were locked now, knives put away and medicine shelf emptied. Mark had no intention to risk her again, and had been soothing and sweet instead of his usual harshness. Maxine had not brought up the punk Chloe again, thank the gods. He needed to keep his angel safe and focused on what was important - him.

In that vein, he'd bought her this gift to try and make her happy. Besides, he wanted to bring sweet Maxine a taste of her old life. He watched her unwrap the tissue paper with slender, shaking hands.

It was a camera. A small beautiful camera that instantly printed the photographs, just like the one she'd had in his classroom. He loved her dedication to the art of film, slowly being lost in this digital age. He wished he could have gotten her a film roll camera so he could have helped her, held her hands as she developed them in pools of chemicals. His sweet muse. However, Maxine would be much happier with an instant print camera.

She stared at it, holding the cool plastic and metal tight between her shaking pale hands.

"Well, are you going to take one of your… selfies?" Mark asked smoothly. Maxine reached out slowly, taking a deep breath and turned the camera to face herself. FLASH. It printed from the bottom, and she stared blankly at it. Mark took it from her hands, smiling in delight. It was if he had, through his cleverness and his art, created his own person.

Maxine heard Mark talking, but as if from underwater. She'd been lost in her own world since she'd seen the deer. She knew Mark had lied to her, that he had no intention of taking her to see Chloe, but for the first time since the beatings and shockings she'd come to realize that it was alright. Dying wouldn't help her because, Mark had confirmed, Chloe was still alive. Maxine ( _Max, your name is Max_ she kept repeating to herself) had a reason to escape. It must have been Chloe that night at the museum, no matter how hard Mark tried to deny it, and that meant Chloe knew where she was. Chloe could be waiting around any corner, there to rescue her.

"Did you hear me Maxine?" Maxine looked up, blinking in confusion. Mark had been talking to her.

"No, I didn't." She said quietly.

"Pay better attention, my sweet. What I was saying, is that I'd like to take you to the park. We could take some pictures. Take that new camera for a test drive."

"I'd… I'd like that." She said, the words tasting far away in her mouth. He grinned and picked up the designer coat he'd bought for her to wear. Then he frowned and turned back to his table.

"Maxine, angel, I didn't want to have to do this to you but please understand... I simply can't afford to lose you again." Maxine could hear clinking sounds and felt fear clench through her.

"Mark, what is that?"

"Nothing you need to worry about angel." He turned and walked close to her. There was something sharp in his hand. A needle.

"N-no! Keep that away from me!" Maxine backed up but Mark grabbed her arm tight, clenching.

"Please don't struggle Maxine. I want this to be over quickly."

"I d-don't want more drugs! P-please no more!" Maxine struggled against his grip. He laughed softly.'

"It isn't drugs my sweet, I promise." Maxine felt a sharp stab of pain as the needle went into the back of her shoulder. It was a wide tip and she choked and struggled, tears welling up in her contact irritated eyes. He drew it out after a moment with a sigh of satisfaction and gently placed a band-aid over the puncture. She shuddered quietly for a moment, then rubbed her shoulder and looked up.

"You didn't lie... I.. I don't feel drugged."

"I try not to lie to you, my sweet." Mark kissed her forehead and helped her into her coat. He wouldn't answer her unspoken question, so she didn't speak it. "Now come on. It's a beautiful day out, I haven't taken you anywhere in weeks, and you've got an award winning photo to take. With my instruction of course."

Together, they left the house. Maxine said nothing as the cool wind whipped her artificial curls around her face.

 _Chloe could be around any corner._ She reminded herself sternly. _You can survive this._


	11. Chapter 11

_Hey guys,_

 _Once again I want to apologize for the massive length of time longer than intended for the update. I'm going to try and make up for it by publishing chapter twelve very soon, but I don't want to promise. Honestly, I was CRUSHED by depression recently, and I'm just now managing to get back on my feet. Thank you all very much for reading Obsessed!_

 _TW - assault mention, suicide attempt._

 _Thank you all!_

 _-Dia_

-ooo-

"No no no."

Maxine stared dully at the floor, not really listening to Mark Jefferson as he endlessly criticized her work. He had taken it upon himself to take the majority of the photographs anyway, it wasn't like he should have much to say about her work... Somehow he did. So much.

"You really don't seem to grasp the fundamental basics of light, Maxine." Jefferson said angrily, tossing the photo aside with scorn. "You're lucky I'm here to teach you. You might be a natural but you've got a long way to go." At least he'd been happy enough with that one photograph, the one he'd sent away to the contest. He'd talked endlessly about it while they walked, how it was the perfect opportunity for them to do something exciting together before their wedding, how he was going to make her famous, a bright star next to him.

Maxine leaned quietly against the table, staring down at the cute outfit he'd picked for her to wear to the reception. She felt sick, honestly sick to her stomach. She felt like the equivalent of a poodle to be paraded around for Jefferson's amusement.

"I'll get my coat. It's almost winter out there." She was tuning him back in, as he was sweeping out of the room. Maxine sighed as she listlessly wandered into the kitchen. Yes of course, Chloe could still be out there, but there was no way she'd ever be free of Jefferson enough to look for-

There.

He'd missed it.

Sitting on the sideboard of the table was a knife. Something he'd used making dinner. Long, thin, wickedly sharp, Maxine moved to it in a flash and slipped it into her sleeve. Mark would give her a purse, he always did, and she could slip it inside without him noticing.

"Maxine we need to go." Mark's sharp voice carried down the stairs. Maxine jolted out of her stupor, knife pressed close to her arm as she walked towards him. He didn't so much as glance her way twice as she took her camera bag from the hook, slipping the knife into the front pouch under the pretext of checking the strap. He'd been so careful with blades and pills and everything dangerous since her attempt, but in his rush, he'd left one behind.

"I'm coming Mark." She murmured innocently, following him out onto the street as he flagged down a taxi. She could see beads of sweat forming on him as the taxi sped off. She wasn't really afraid of him, not anymore. What could he still do to her that he had not already done?

"What's the matter, Mark?" Maxine asked. "Are you nervous?" She didn't really care, but knew that if she played the part, was a good girl, he might slip up again later. He seemed very intently distracted. She'd seen him buying the tickets for their honeymoon… was that on his mind?

"Nervous?" He scoffed, his voice cutting into the flow of her thoughts. "That photograph was perfect. I made sure it was. Don't worry, you've got the best photographer in Washington as your mentor."

"Thank you." She replied, staring out the window dully. She knew she could point out that he was sweating but that would just get her a brief shock for talking back to him, and it wasn't worth the effort.. For now, it was best to just let him act like he was sure about everything, like he wasn't nervous in the slightest. There was a long, uncomfortable silence in the cab as it drove them to the contest. When it finally pulled up, she let herself out of the cab with a breath of relief. She had the knife, now she just needed to get away from Mark long enough to use it.

Mark paid the driver and walked Maxine into the building. It was a large atrium, with a lovely greek-inspired white facade. The ionic columns stood out to the old Max, just a flicker in the back of her own mind, who thought they'd make for a good picture. Maxine's thoughts quickly drifted back to Mark, who was leading her through the atrium. The floor had a lovely tessellating pattern, and a few of the younger artists were playing games with them, such as walking only on the blue tiles, or only on the ones which were pentagons. The building itself was rather breathtaking, and as Mark led Maxine into one of the show-rooms, the beautiful carpeting and intricate detail on the ceiling's lining stuck out to her. There was so much beauty in simple things. It would be nice to see something like this last.

"Mark?" She asked, before forcing herself to add, "Dear? Do you know where the ladies' room is?" She bit her tongue inside her mouth, calling him 'dear' made her want to eat it so she could never ever call him 'dear' ever again. She felt like she was going to vomit in her mouth a little.

"Of course, darling. It's down the hall to the right. I'll show you to it." He replied. Of course she couldn't go alone.

"N-No!" She was a bit panicked, and blushed, feigning embarrassment, and he ate it up. "I just meant, in case I have to go later. Sorry, contests make me a bit anxious."

"There's no need to worry." He replied, with a smile. "In fact, I have some pull with one of the judges, I can ask him ahead of time who won so you won't be nervous."

"Would you, please?" She asked, not that she cared but maybe it would keep his attention off of her for a few minutes. She hated the feeling of his eyes on her. It was like being...touched all over again.

Mark went off to go speak with one of the judges. While he was gone, Maxine wandered the room, watching contestants gather and talk, they all were speaking about the techniques that they used to create their pieces. Maxine wished she could join them and converse, but she knew Mark wouldn't have it and she didn't want to risk the scene of being dragged away. She was 'his' protege and shouldn't be talking to the 'no-name' photographers who'd entered. She sighed quietly, the waves of depression closing over her head again. It looked like fun.

She glanced towards where Mark stood with the judge and startled. His face was bright red. She couldn't hear them, but he was clearly furious, he was almost shouting. She knew his fury well by this point. Perhaps she hadn't done well. She had thought it would hurt, knowing she'd lost the contest so badly, but it didn't really. She'd barely been involved in the picture, apart from pressing the button on the camera

Mark was still arguing with the judge. He didn't show any sign of stopping. Maybe this was her chance, she'd thought dully. She could wander over to the bathroom, take the knife. She'd hardly be the first artistic protege to over-react to losing her first serious contest. She'd have to decide quickly.

It wasn't a choice though, was it? She had a chance to die free, and she had to take it, whatever the cost. She had to stop fooling herself into believing that Chloe could be around any corner.

Maxine made her way towards the bathroom. She was almost out of the room when she glanced back to Mark. He was on his way back. Panic flamed through her and rooted her to the ground where she stood- he was still furious. Mark stormed back over, huffing up an indignant storm. As he proceeded towards her, he shoved some of the other photographers out of the way. It felt like ages watching him approach, each moment broken into it's own little picture. Maxine watched each picture follow, one after the other, each capturing the frustration and spite on Mark's face. Finally, he stood before her, the very image of a loss of composure.

"How _dare_ you?" He growled spitefully, looking like he'd strike her if there weren't other people standing around. He gripped her wrist roughly, crushing it so that it nearly popped and dragging her to the side of the room where they would be less overheard. "I've taken care of you, given you a home and food and more love than you've ever had in your miserable life before, and _you still defy me_?"

"I d-don't know what you're talking about." Maxine whimpered slightly as he squeezed her wrist tighter. Mark growled low, furious, like an animal about to attack.

"Did you enter another photo, Maxine?" He asked, his voice was like a wire around her throat. It was pure danger. "Because, the judge told me that Maxine Jefferson didn't win."

"I- h-how.. What does that have to do with me? I'm s-sorry my photo wasn't good enough but I-"

" _Max Caulfield_ did."

Maxine's eyes widened in shock, feeling like her stomach had dropped out of her body. What? How, how was that even- it couldn't be possible.

Mark was glaring at her, nostrils flared in pure anger. She knew she had to answer, and it had to be good. 'No I didn't,' wouldn't cut it, he wouldn't believe her. She shook her head, and knew her response, the sound slipping between her lips like a whisper.

" _Max Caulfield_ died in Arcadia Bay. Someone's trying to mess with you, love." As she spoke, she could feel the bile and venom of her words rip through her throat, every syllable a betrayal of everything she felt. She didn't know who'd entered, but she was Max, she WAS Max.

She reached up and put her hand on his sternum, she had to sell it. The only way she could free herself was if he believed with all his heart that she was the weak broken girl he'd believed her to be.

She leaned in slowly and kissed him. From the outside it was tender and loving, but inside, Maxine knew it was anything but. The kiss was vile and poisonous. Kissing him so lovingly made her want to die, but it was the only way she'd be able to. As their lips parted, Mark looked into hers, and his eyes narrowed. Suspicion? No. It couldn't be... She had played the role so perfectly. She had acted every moment to be the doting Stockholm Syndrome little girl that Mark wanted. His lips parted to speak, and as they did, his fist clenched.

Maxine took a slow breath, and prepared to run as fast as she could.

"You're right." He replied. "There's no way that photograph lost. It was perfect. You were perfect. I was perfect." Maxine thought a silent cheer. He'd bought it. He'd really bought it! "There's something going on and I'm getting to the bottom of it."

Mark turned to go and Maxine tugged on his sleeve, pulling him towards her. She leaned up to his ear and whispered. "Mark...I've been nervous all day, you know...and, I know that someone's just doing this to get at you, but I think I may throw up from the stress of it." Maxine knew he'd believe that. He was nervous about the contest, she knew that, so of course, he'd believe that she was. With his head firmly into storming over to the judge's booth and giving them hell, this was the only time he'd slip up.

"Of course, baby." He replied, stroking her cheek with his palm. "I'll take care of this, you go down to the bathroom, make sure not to get any on your outfit or your hair, alright?" She nodded and turned to walk to the restroom.

A smile spread across her face as she walked. Soon, so soon she'd be free. Free of him, free of the guilt, free from all of it. With a deep breath, she stepped into the ladies room, she stared into the mirror.

She knew it would hurt, worse than anything she'd ever felt. But not worse than knowing she was a mass-murderer. It wouldn't hurt worse than knowing that the one person she'd done it for, Chloe, was dead and that it was her fault. She threw away hundreds of lives for her, because one was more important, and then she let her die. With another very shaking breath, Maxine took the knife from her camera bag and held it to her throat. She had to be fast, she had to be true, or she'd lose her nerve and stop.

"I can do this." She whispered slowly. "I can do this."

One of the stalls opened, and a startlingly familiar voice called to her.

"I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say."

Maxine's eyes widened, and she started to choke. No. No no no, NOT again. She held the knife in place paralyzed staring at the phantom of Chloe in the mirror. It wasn't like at the gala, where she looked different. It was Chloe, exactly as she remembered her. Her blue hair and tattoos, her tank top, torn jeans, and eyes alight with mischief. She stepped towards Maxine slowly.

"Max...I'm going to get you out of here." She said as she approached. "There's a fire exit fifteen yards from the bathroom door. When we open it, alarms will go off and sprinklers will start... we can lose Jefferson in the panic and be in the car before he even gets to the bathroom to look for you."

"Y-you're not real." Maxine replied, with a small sob. She pressed the knife into her skin, feeling it bend under the pressure, if she pulled, it would tear through and put an end to her misery. "You died, because of me."

Chloe stopped inches away from Max, eyes wide as she looked at the knife.

"Max…. angel… my angel, please…"

Chloe reached around her and curled her hands around Max's. Tears started flooding down Max's face and whispered, "I'll always love you Chloe."

Chloe's fingers were swift and purposeful, she slid a hand up against the pommel of the knife to keep it from moving, while the other hand slid between the blade and Max's throat. She gritted her teeth in pain, trying not to scream as it sliced into her fingers, but she pressed her them into the blade, pushing it away from Max.

"NO. NO _I will not fucking lose you again!_ " She jerked the knife away, slamming into the sink, drops of red splattering everywhere. "Max, do you really think I would die when I have you to live for? Don't be so fucking stubborn." She slammed down two halves of a photograph onto the sink counter, now smattered with blood. Max stared, she could see the two halves of a blue butterfly.

Max's eyes widened, and she stared at Chloe's fingers, at the photograph. She could feel her, she could feel the wet blood, feel Chloe's warm breath on her own neck. She trembled. It was her. She was real.

She threw her arms around Chloe's neck. "C-chloe… oh my god, this is real… you're real, you're alive!" Her lips crashed into Chloe's. Chloe's bloody fingers tangled into Max's hair, and she kissed her beloved girlfriend like she was air to a drowning man.

"I'm alive, angel. I'm alive, and I'm going to get you the fuck away from that monster." Chloe glanced down at the photo, holding Max tightly, and let out a heavy sigh. "I wasn't sure that would work." She said as she stroked Max's hair. "Honestly, I was terrified it wouldn't."


	12. Chapter 12

_Hey guys! Good to be posting again! Sorry this chapter took me so long to get done. I'm beginning to think I should stop promising a release date on them. On the upside, only one chapter leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeft. Eh heh heh. Prepare for pain. I'm so grateful to everyone who's been following the story since day one, and everyone who's joined along the way! Your comments give me life. I love you all!_

 _TW for Chapter: Gun violence/violence, implied past sexual and physical assault. Physical assault. Untagged triggers. Mark Jefferson's stupid face._

 _Love you! -Dia_

-ooo-

Chloe pulled Max along behind her as they ran, praying her girlfriend wasn't too broken to understand the urgency of the situation. It didn't seem that she was, because except for a few glances back as the building fell behind she didn't stop running at all. Chloe pulled out her phone, tapping Siri while they ran.

"Call Sean Amber!" She shouted into the phone as they flat out sprinted across the open plaza outside the museum. A second later, Sean picked up. She saw the door burst open at the top of the museum steps.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" It was Jefferson. Max's hand tightened on Chloe, she looked absolutely terrified.

"SEAN!" Chloe screamed into her phone as they ran, "I'M OUT FRONT AND I NEED PICKUP _RIGHT NOW!_ " Jefferson was sprinting down the steps after them.

"MAXINE!" He bellowed, "STOP RIGHT THERE! MY WIFE IS BEING KIDNAPPED!"

The red car came tearing around the corner, tires squealing, and Richard threw the backdoor open. Chloe grabbed Max's wrist, pulling her towards the car, when Max suddenly stopped running and started screaming. Chloe felt a jolt of electricity run up her arm, and realized with horror that Jefferson was doing something to Max, something that revolved around that plastic box tied to her throat. She scooped Max up, ignoring the jolts of pain in her arms, and flung her into the backseat. The door slammed shut, and Jefferson brought both his fists down against the glass half a second later, screaming and kicking. Chloe flipped him off through the window, clutching Max to her side, and Sean floored it.

The car shot forwards, leaving the museum and Jefferson in the dust. As he got smaller and farther away, Max stopped twitching, collapsing weakly against Chloe with her eyes half closed. Richard looked between her and Chloe, who was grimly clutching a napkin against her bleeding fingers.

"You got her?" He asked slowly. "Hey sweetheart, are you-" He'd reached out to put a hand on Max's shoulder and she violently flinched away, clinging to Chloe. Chloe's heart broke a little, pulling the smaller shaking girl against her chest and rocking her softly.

"Shhh, shhh, I've got you angel." She murmured, petting the back of Max's hair. The goddamn blonde extensions made her blood boil and she started winding them out one at a time. Max didn't seem to be able to speak, she was clenching hard to the front of Chloe's shirt as though she thought she'd be torn away.

"What the hell is that thing?" Richard asked, pointing to the box on Max's neck, the thing that had been shocking her. "And what are we doing now?"

Chloe ran her fingers along the tight plastic band with her eyebrows together while Sean spoke.

"Now we get Max to testify against Jefferson. He goes the fuck to jail, for what he did to Rachel, for what he did to her, for all those girls." He sounded delighted. "Justice is fucking served, Richard."

"It's…. a shock collar. For dogs." Chloe said, in a low and dangerous growl. "A fucking shock collar." She clicked out her pocket knife. Max whimpered, drawing away from the blade. Had he _cut_ her? Chloe took a deep breath, trying to keep from seeing red. As much as she wanted to turn around and put a well-deserved bullet between his fucking eyes, she needed to get her girlfriend to safety for now. With a soothing nose, she pressed the knife under the plastic band. Max whimpered, eyes tight shut, the pressure of the metal on her skin making her breathe hard and fast. Chloe focused, and with a sharp movement, split the band in half. She rolled down the window and flung it as hard as she could, and it bounced and rolled down the bank.

"I'm so so sorry." She whispered, touching her forehead to Max's. Max said nothing, curling up against her chest and closing her eyes tightly.

They drove for at least an hour in silence, Chloe pulling out Max's extensions one by one and eventually gently removing the contacts. She dumped them out of the windows without a single glance back.

"Where are we going?" Richard asked eventually, rubbing the back of Sean's neck as he drove.

"My parent's vacation house." Sean said, spinning the wheel as they turned off onto a forested sideroad. "They've got one up in the mountains that'll be a better place for us to lay low while Max gets feeling ready to talk to the police."

They pulled in about half an hour later to the Amber's cabin. It was one of those large, graceful structures built on the edge of a view, with big windows and glossy golden logs. Max looked at it apprehensively, she hadn't let go of Chloe's shirt. _Don't worry,_ Chloe thought to herself, staring down at her girlfriend. _I will never let anything happen to you. I underestimated him before. Never again._

Something hard pressed against Chloe's palm as she took Max's hand to try and help her into the house. She looked down to see the giant, ugly engagement ring Jefferson had given her girlfriend. It was like a fire that shot through her, all in an instant. Gently, soothingly, she slid it off Max's finger. Then she threw it as hard as she could, sending it far out into the woods. They heard it crack against a tree somewhere with a resounding thud, and Chloe flipped it off with both hands before taking Max back into her arms.

"C'mon… let's get you inside. Some rest and food would be good for you."

-ooo-

Mark Jefferson was beside himself with fury. This was the second time that punk slut had tried to take Maxine away from him, and this time she decidedly thought she'd gotten away with it. He'd declined to talk to the police, he knew that they'd never see his relationship with Maxine in the proper light. His light. No one understood the way he saw things.

He didn't need them anyway, he smirked as he activated his phone. After the last time Chloe'd tried to make off with his darling muse, he'd fed a tracking device to her. He could see it pinging on his GPS, somewhere up in the mountains outside Seattle. He was going to have her back, and have that blue devil's head on a plate in the process.

It was the work of thirty minutes to return home and find his gun and ammunition. He didn't bother changing, he was thinking feverishly of Maxine. What would that monster Chloe be doing to his darling, even now? Filling her head with lies, making her believe that he didn't love her. It had to be stopped.

It was getting dark as he drove up the road, which was good for Mark Jefferson, because he was driving well over the speed limit as he turned up the winding road into the mountains. Max's location held, pinging true again and again. He'd be there. He'd be there very soon.

-ooo-

Max felt better after the shower. She stared at herself in the mirror, gripping the smooth edge of the sink bowl. Her hair was still blonde, but it was the right length now. Her eyes were the right color. There was a line where the collar had rubbed her throat raw over the almost two months she'd been held captive, but nothing more. She kept expecting to turn and see Jefferson there, but instead…. Chloe. Chloe, real and solid and alive. She took Max into her arms again, softly towelling her hair dry and rocking her back and forth.

"We're gonna catch Jefferson, Max." Chloe murmured softly. Mark… she was talking about Mark. Just thinking about him felt like a weight in Max's stomach. She couldn't bring herself to open her mouth and say a word.

Chloe was concerned, Max hadn't spoken since she'd been rescued from the art show. She didn't want to push it though, helping her girlfriend get dressed in a relaxed T-shirt and some cotton shorts. They curled up together in the soft bed, Chloe rubbing her thumbs along Max's bruised skin and trying not to let her anger build at each fresh mark she discovered. It reminded her more than she wanted to admit of how she'd felt when David beat her back home. Angry and hurt and afraid.

Max slept fitfully. Chloe did not sleep, pacing the house when Max was in her deepest sleep and staying close by when she was dreaming. At about two o'clock in the morning, she thought she heard a sound like a car pulling into the driveway, but looking out the windows she didn't see any lights. Uneasy, she returned back to Max's side.

 _ **CRASH.**_

Max bolted upright, Chloe jerked around. There was a loud sound of breaking glass, and crunching. Max's hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide in abject terror. Chloe stepped to the doorway, picking up a turned off lamp from the top of the dresser and holding it like a club. She heard more breaking glass, and the sounds of Richard and Sean moving in the next room.

"Who the fuck's there?!" She snarled, holding the lamp up and flicking on the hallway light. The scene that met her eyes was horrifying. Jefferson was dragging himself through the window, jacket disheveled and ripped from the glass. His glasses were broken, he had a gun pointed forwards towards her, and blood was running off cuts on his face and arms. His eyes were the most startling thing though, they looked inhumanly crazy.

Sean and Richard appeared in the doorway too. Sean was gripping a baseball bat with both hands, eyes wide and hair stuck up everywhere.

"Where….is she?!" Jefferson demanded, pointing the gun at the three of them. No one moved or answered him. _"Answer the fucking question!"_

Chloe glanced behind her. Max was standing in the middle of the room, just out of Jefferson's line of sight. She looked white as a sheet, her knees visibly knocking together. No. No way was that fucker having her back.

"You can have her over my dead body." She growled at Jefferson. He moved forwards laughing.

"God, with _pleasure._ " He pointed the gun at her face. "You've been in my way too many fucking times. First with Rachel, now with this."

"What did you say?" Sean's voice was soft, barely contained. "Say something about my sister again you motherfucker-"

Jefferson's head jerked sideways, the angle all wrong. Chloe blocked the doorway, her eyes roving for an alternate exit. Behind her, she could hear Max opening the window. _Thank God. Thank God she's thinking._

"You must be Sean Amber…." Jefferson's laugh was cold and sent a shiver down Chloe's spine. He didn't look cool or collected now, he looked like a demon. "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere, though I'm more used to looking down at them from about knee height."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and then Sean screamed and lunged at Jefferson, swinging the bat. The gun went off, ringing like Chloe'd been punched in the ears. She didn't wait, turning and slamming the door behind her hard. Max was struggling with the screen in the window, and Chloe ran forwards, shoving it hard. It popped out, showing a four foot drop to the ground below. She climbed out, hearing Jefferson slamming himself against the door. Max climbed out behind her, down into her arms. They sprinted forwards, Chloe scrambling in her pocket for her cell phone to call 911. No fucking signal. Of course.

"W-we have to go." It was the first sound Max had made, a terrified choked whisper more than an actual spoken sentence. Chloe did not ignore it, clenching her hand as they sprinted together into the woods.


	13. Chapter 13

_Wow guys. Hey there, to any of you who decided to stick it out. I know it's been forever, and I'm deeply sorry. I was dealing with some deep depression, serious writer's block, and substance use/abuse issues. I'm doing a LOT better now, and am really glad to be able to bring you the final chapter of Obsessed. Welllllll, sorta final. Check back for an epilogue sometime soon ;). Thank you all again for reading and supporting me through the almost full year I've been writing (and avoiding writing) this fic. I love you and I'm super glad you like my work. Please leave a comment on things you enjoy or think I could change!_

 _Thank you all. WIthout you, writing this would have been impossible._

 _With Love, Dia._

 _TW for this chapter: violence, murder, attempted murder, attempted suicide, mentions of sexual abuse._

 _-ooo-_

The cool air felt like it stung on Max's cheeks as she sprinted blindly in the dark. She could feel Chloe's hand clenched tight in hers, feel the other girl keeping pace right behind her. They dove headlong into the woods, not caring where they went as long as it was away from the monster that was chasing them.

 _"MAXINE!"_ He screamed into the forest, his voice echoing off the trees. It made her stomach turn. Chloe pulled ahead, now leading Max forward through the trees.

"Ignore him," she spoke breathlessly, keeping Max close. "Ignore him, we've got this." Max nodded, trusting Chloe even as her own heart crashed in her throat.

"I'm going to fiiiiind you!" It was hard to tell what direction his yells were coming from. Chloe swore softly under her breath as the ground began to slope upwards, making their progress slower as they fought through scrubby underbrush. "Keep hiding, Maxine! It's just going to make the consequences _so much worse."_

Max stumbled at that, and Chloe pulled her upright, grabbing her face and pulling her close. "Max look at me. Look at me. He's not going to get you. I won't let him fucking touch you, okay?" Max nodded weakly, her mind spinning and her fingers icy cold locked around Chloe's wrists. Chloe pulled her gently and they sprinted forwards again.

-ooo-

The trees were thinning ahead. Chloe hoped it was a road, then they could put on some speed and maybe flag down a passing car for help. She only managed to stagger to a halt in time by grabbing onto some branches as she realized that what s he'd mistaken for a road in the darkness was just open air. The edge of some kind of dark pit she couldn't see. Gripping Max's hand tighter, she turned and they ran along the edge. She could still hear Jefferson crashing through the underbrush behind them. Maybe they'd get lucky and he'd fall over the edge.

Up ahead the bushes got thornier, digging into Chloe's jacket and pants as she tried to struggle first through, then around them. Her foot almost slipped and she pulled back, keeping Max close. She skirted her foot along the edge, trying to figure out a way to get past Jefferson without going over the edge of that dark abyss.

The sweeping beam of Jefferson's flashlight shone through the trees. Max was barely moving, eyes wide and terrified. Chloe pushed her down into the scrub brush. If they could avoid the beam of that flashlight, perhaps he'd see the edge of whatever mountain cliff this was and turn another direction to follow them. She knelt next to her girlfriend, keeping her breathing carefully under control.

Jefferson drew closer, the light brushing back and forth on the trees over their head. Chloe could see flashes of him when the light bounced off tree trunks and illuminated his face. There was still blood running down it, the gun held loosely in his hand. _Oh god…_ she thought, frozen. _Oh god, I hope Sean is alive._ He was moving away from them, parallel but pulling past. His light caught the edge of the cliff, Chloe could see now it was one of those mountain rock dropoffs, and moved along it. Lips curling in disgust and fury, Jefferson turned his back on the two girls, starting to move away from them.

"Come out Maxine… you don't want me to kill your sweet little Chloe the way I killed Rachel Amber, do you?" Chloe stiffened, blood pounding in her ears. There had to be some way to make him pay for what he'd done to Rachel. Her eyes focused slowly on the gun in his left hand, dangling at his side.

Taking a cautious half step forwards, Chloe moved closer to Jefferson. His back was fully to them now. She felt Max's hand clench down on her arm, and stopped in her tracks.

"What're you _doing?_ " Max whispered, barely as loud as an exhaled breath. Chloe looked at the dark mass she knew was her girlfriend.

"I'm gonna get some fucking revenge." She whispered back. Jefferson had stopped moving, so she did too, not wanting to get any closer until she was sure he couldn't hear her. He took a few steps away from them, his flashlight starting to sweep again.

"I know you're around here somewhere Maxine…" He snarled. Max's hand slipped off Chloe's arm, and it was all the permission she needed to move forwards. Keeping low, trying not to step on any twigs or do anything to give her presence away, she crawled towards Jefferson. Her hand found a large rock, and she picked it up slowly. Jefferson hadn't moved, though he was clearly about to, squaring his shoulders and adjusting his broken glasses while his beam swung wildly through the darkness.

There was no time for thinking, no time for fear. The image of Rachel - laughing happily on the train with her the first day they met, rocking it out at concerts, lying dead in the pit, they were all burning in her mind. It was time to make him pay for his crimes. Jefferson heard her moving a second too late, starting to turn towards the sounds of Chloe standing at the same time as she cracked the rock into the side of his head, with an almighty "FUCK YOU!"

Jefferson took several stumbling steps backwards, hand coming up to the side of his head. In the crazed moving light of his flashlight, Chloe tackled him, grabbing for the gun. Her hand wrapped around the cold metal before Jefferson's elbow connected with her face, dazing her. She felt her nose start to bleed, eyes watering, but she kept all her weight pressed down on his wrist, hand wrapped tight around the gun. She was sitting on his chest.

"GET OFF ME!" He screamed, rolling hard to the left and taking her with. Now he was on top of her, pinning her into the leaves and dirt. She felt a stone press into her back but it was nothing compared to the smell of his breath, the feeling of all of him pressed against her. She brought her knee up hard, right into his payload. The sound he made was deeply satisfying and he rolled off her, yelling indistinguishable curses. Chloe threw herself onto his hand again as the moon broke free off the clouds again, casting the whole scene in weird, pale silver light. Max was running forwards, towards their struggle.

Upon seeing her, Jefferson lunged forwards. Chloe reached up, grabbing him hard around the knees and holding on. He stumbled, hitting the ground first knees and then hands, swearing. The gun flew out of his hand, landing about three feet away. Chloe let go of him and scrambled in the dirt for it, feeling his hands clench down on the back of her shirt and pull her back towards him. She shrieked and turned, clawing him in the eyes.

"S-stop now. Both of you."

Chloe looked up and towards the sound of Max's voice, shaky in the pale light. Jefferson looked up too, lines of blood raked across the skin around his eyes. Max stood a little apart from them, the gun clenched shakily in both of her hands and pointed at them. For a laughable moment, it reminded Chloe of the time Max'd held a gun on Frank. This was different though. This gun was loaded, and it wasn't just pointed at Jefferson. It was pointed at her.

-ooo-

Max took a deep breath, trying to steady her scattered, broken mind as she looked at them both. They were covered in leaves and dirt. Both were bleeding, Mark from the face and Chloe from the nose. It was dribbling down her lips and chin, staining onto her white tank top. In the moonlight and glow from Mark phone, the blood looked black. It made her stomach turn. She wanted them to stop, didn't they understand how scared it made her when they fought?

Slowly, they both stood. She moved the gun from Mark to Chloe. Seeing it, Mark took a half step forward. The gun instantly snapped back to him and he froze with his hands above his head. "Maxine…" he said, slow, soothing. Max took a step back, and felt her foot touch the edge of the cliff.

"Don't come any closer to me." She hated the shake in her voice and hands. "I'll pull the trigger. I will."

"Max-" Chloe's voice was full of fear and confusion. "Why're you-"

"S-shut up!" She cut Chloe off. Chloe. She loved Chloe, why was she pointing a gun at Chloe? Some dark part of her mind reminded her that Chloe had been the one who abandoned her when she'd been kidnapped. Chloe was the one who'd let her be taken from the hotel, the reason she'd been hurt again and again. Chloe'd promised to protect her and failed entirely.

"Maxine…" Mark's voice washed over her like a balm, gentle and comforting. "Don't let your _friend-"_ he said the word with dislike, "influence you. You're frightened, I understand… but deep down, you know I won't hurt you." Max's stomach twisted.

"M-my name is _Max._ " She hissed. "Never Maxine. Max. And you hurt me so many times. I don't believe a word you say. You always lie. You always lie to me." He had. He'd held her down, beaten her, done worse things. Stolen so much from her that she'd never get back.

"Max!" Chloe's voice was more insistent this time. "Max, I _love_ you-"

"Shut up." Mark snapped, rounding on Chloe. "You're nothing. Your love is nothing. I love her more than a child like you could ever hope to imagine."

"STOP!" Max screamed. She couldn't take it anymore. The arguing, the emotions, they burned in her guts like ropes of fire. Her vision was blurring, and with a startle, she realized that she was sobbing, gun still pointed at both of them.

Something was glowing behind them. Something tall, on four legs, and with large soft eyes. It was her doe, stepping forwards through the leaves on velvet hooves. It walked between Mark and Chloe, though neither glanced at it. It walked closer and closer to Max, resting the soft furry crown of it's head against the muzzle of the gun. She stared at it in blank disbelief. **_Oh_**. It all made sense now.

In a single fluid motion, Max jammed the gun under her chin.

"NO!" Mark and Chloe screamed in unison, running forwards. Chloe got to Max first, tackling her before she could pull the trigger. Mark smashed into them, slipping in the dry dead leaves and skidding over the edge. His arms slammed down into the ground, but could find no purchase. Scrabbling, he reached around Chloe's waist to keep himself up. The small girl was ripped off Max, dragging backwards. Jefferson was fully over the edge now, suspended by clinging to Chloe.

"Max! Please! PLEASE!" Chloe screamed, holding on to Max's hand with both of hers, her tone the same desperate scream as that time she'd been locked onto the train tracks. The gun lay forgotten as Jefferson's weight dragged all three of them closer to the edge. Max gripped Chloe's wrist, straining with all her might, feet slipping in the leaves as she tried to grab onto _anything_. Chloe kicked and struggled, trying to lose Mark's grip on her. He was climbing slowly up her body, arms wrapped around her neck from behind now. Max's grip was slipping, she was seeing stars, feeling Chloe's nails dig into her wrists. She screamed and heaved hard, and they rose very slightly. Then Chloe's grip slipped, and the weight was gone.

Both Chloe and Mark plunged into the darkness below, and out of sight.

A scream tore from Max, the broken scream of a dying soul. "NO! NO NO NO!" Both her hands clapped to the sides of her head. They were gone, they were both gone. They were dead, it was all her fault, she couldn't save them. She threw her hand out, trying to rewind in a fever of anguished desperation. Nothing. The deer regarded her coolly, and she rounded on it.

"This is YOUR fault!" She choked, her voice thick with sobs. "Chloe's dead! Chloe's really dead, I can't- I can't- GET OUT!" She collapsed on the leaves, curled up into a ball and rocking back and forth. It was her fault. If she hadn't hesitated. If she'd just done what needed to be done, shot Jefferson - the sick fuck- Chloe would be alive right now.

The deer's translucent nose touched her softly, and she uncurled to look at it. It was so cold, like starlight in December. It watched her with those sad, somber eyes, that somehow reminded her of every photograph of Rachel Amber she'd ever seen.

"P-please help me." She whispered, unsure if she was even making a sound. "Please… I'm begging you. I love her. Y-you loved her. I know you loved her, Rachel. Please." She stumbled to her feet.

With a quiet motion, the deer reached it's nose forwards and touched her in the middle of the forehead. Everything went blank and white, then spiraled with a thousand glowing colors. Max felt her body break apart and reform, energy surging through it. She screamed soundlessly, light coming from her eyes and ears, nose and mouth. Time was nothing. Time was a gift. Time belonged to her. Eyes still glowing, frozen in a moment outside of time and space, Max reached out her hand.

A familiar power burned through her, whispers and rustles of movement filling her mind. Whirring, clicking, and suddenly two figures rushing backwards up over the edge. They ran backwards away from her, away from the edge, back to where they stood with their hands raised. Max watched the gun rise from the ground and into midair. With a snap, she ended the rewind and caught the gun smoothly, pointing it back towards them.

"Maxine…" Jefferson began slowly. A smile twitched at the edge of Max's lips.

"It's Max." She said, loud and cold. She focused, pointed, and pulled the trigger.


	14. Epilogue

_It's done. I love each and every one of my readers. Thank you for staying with my story and telling me your feelings on it. I adore all of your feedback. Thank you also to the users who reached out to me on tumblr (oshindijo) because it made my year._

 _Thank you for enjoying this story about Chloe Price and Maxine Caulfield._

 _TW: violence, implied sexual assault_

 _-Dia_

-ooo-

It was over.

The flashing emergency lights as they pulled up the mountain road illuminated the two exhausted girls sitting and holding each other on the back porch. The cops made short work of the scene. Sean had been shot non fatally and was loaded onto a stretcher, his boyfriend hovering around him like a worried moth. EMTs wrapped Max and Chloe in warm blankets, huddling them near the back of a second ambulance while they explained where they'd left Jefferson screaming in the woods. It was all surreal in the flashing red and blue, like the weirdest dream or longest high.

The EMT personnel carried him down on a stretcher, his leg strapped down to prevent him from injuring it with his thrashing. Max had blown the knee out, and Chloe wasn't sure he'd ever be able to walk on it again. Not that it would matter, from the jail cell their testimony was going to put him in. Chloe kept Max's face pressed firmly against her shoulder, keeping her turned away. She didn't need to see that fucker, not ever again. Not getting a chance to bash his head in- for Rachel- was the only regret still curled tightly in Chloe's stomach.

Jefferson was frenzied, spitting and hissing angrily at the EMTs, but he calmed when he saw Max. He leaned towards her, straining against the straps.

"Maaaaxine…" He called, voice broken and weird, almost a laugh, almost a sob. Chloe felt her girlfriend stiffen in her arms and clenched her tighter, snarling under her breath in Jefferson's direction. He ignored her. "Maxine, darling… just look at me, one more time-"

"Shut the fuck up." Chloe snapped at him, her hand coming up to press softly into the back of Max's hair, keeping her face turned away. Again, Jefferson ignored her, but this time there was an edge of fury to his voice.

"You think this is over, my sweet? No no no- this will _never_ be fuckin done. _Never."_

"Didn't you hear me the first time?" Chloe's patience was stretching thin. Why the hell weren't the EMTs paying closer attention, they were checking the scene or something, not sedating Jefferson into drooling oblivion like they should be. He was straining harder, grinning psychotically at Max, who had begun to shake.

"You'll always be mine. You'll always remember, all the times we had, won't you? How much I love y-"

"I said _shut. Up._ " Chloe was on her feet now, Max staring at her shoes, anywhere but at Jefferson. He was talking faster, glancing at Chloe's approach.

"A part of me will _always_ be inside of you Maxine, never fucking forg-"

Chloe snapped. This was the shitstain that had taken Rachel, broken Max. She couldn't have stopped herself if she'd wanted to. In a leap, she was on top of the stretcher, knee rammed down into his balls. He didn't even have time to react before she slammed her fist into his face.

 _"THIS IS FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID TO THEM YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!"_ The EMTs were running back, but not before Chloe slammed her other fist down, then the first again, and again, hearing the satisfying crunch of his nose flattening, seeing the spray of blood. His glasses broke more, but she didn't stop punching. In fact, she didn't stop beating him until one of the EMTs bodily lifted her free and dragged her away from the spitting, coughing form of Mark Jefferson.

Chloe took deep breaths, steadying herself before wrapping her arms around Max and holding her like she was afraid the girl would fly into a thousand pieces. Maybe she would, anything was possible tonight.

Watching from the edge of the woods, the ghostly glowing form of the doe stepped clear of the trees. Max locked eyes with it from the back of the ambulance, over Chloe's shoulder. It lowered it's head, nodding it's approval very softly. She nodded back, once, eyes locked. With a gust of wind that lifted their hair and iced their cheeks, the doe dissipated from view.

"It's over." Max whispered, very softly. "For real, this time."

"For real this time." Chloe echoed back, kissing her girlfriend's forehead. She meant it. She would dedicate her life to protecting Max Caulfield. And Max, smiling at her exhausted partner, knew she'd spend the rest of her life loving her.

 **The End.**


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